Empress
by xLilim
Summary: Kouen Ren marries Asta of Ione to further the Kou Empire's plan to unify the world under a single king. He holds no interest in his new bride apart from her country's resources, but Asta, though young and naïve, is determined to make their union work for the sake of her long-suffering citizens. The first half of the story ( Ch 01 - ? ) is pre-canon; KouenOC
1. (01) Bone Dust - Pt 1

**Disclaimer**: This will be the forever disclaimer, thus it applies to every chapter of this story. I do not own Magi or its characters, Shinobu Ohtaka does. I only claim ownership of the original characters and this humble fanfic.

**Warning**(**s**): Everything included in the rating applies to the level of violence, language, and adult content in this story. Proceed with caution if you are easily offended by violence or fairly descriptive depictions of adult relationships. This story is a story that will likely require a lot of patience, so if you don't have any, this story is not for you. Also, the first half of this story is pre-canon.

**xl**: This is probably going to be one of the only important author's note I am going to write you, so if you can read this one, you can definitely ignore the rest and we'll be a-okay. But seriously, let me tell you about the format I have going for this story:

1\. Each chapter is comprised of 3 parts. The FIRST is something of an introduction. It's essentially worldbuilding and important to the story (though, it's a little more detailed as the story itself only contains necessary worldbuilding...I think.). Plus, I think it will be helpful to readers if they ever forget what something is. With my update schedule, you will. It's okay to ask these things too, of course. The SECOND part is the actual story content. This is divided into sub-parts, which would normally be separated by a line break, but I wanted to be fancy and put roman numerals in brackets. It was a stylistic choice. The THIRD part is an extra. It is a piece of the overarching puzzle told to you through other important characters' POV. There won't always be an extra at the end of each chapter. The same goes with introductions...I am eventually going to run out.

2\. It sounds like a convoluted mess, but I promise I will to make it work.

3\. I am sorry. Please be patient with me.

Moving on, this is my first Magi fanfiction and I am very nervous. I said I would never write one, but here we are. I also never said I would write a KouenOC one. And here we are.

I also want to apologize for the cliched arranged marriage set up. I am a complete sucker for these. I do hope that it's a little different than what you're used to reading, but I won't guarantee anything. I don't know what you've read.

I'm sorry for this as well, but characterization will likely be a bit rough at the start, but I will try my best to improve over the course of the story.

And if I haven't spooked you with all this nonsense, please enjoy.

* * *

**ONE**: Bone Dust

* * *

**The Byzen Cluster**

The Byzen Cluster was a group of six inhabited islands on the Byzen Ocean. Its six kingdoms were established to function with one another's aid, like a human body where each organ dealt with one important task. Communications and friendships between them were powerful, never wavering, but the arrival of a new player changed their dynamic forever.

Cluster Kingdoms introduced thus far: Ione, Baryon, Corrin, and Lorah.

**The Kingdom of Ione**

In the distant past, during a time of darkness for an enclave of warriors, a storyteller arrived to the dying home. Welcomed by the warriors, the storyteller immersed himself into their daily lives—experiencing their hardships as well as their happiness alongside them—until time called him to the next far off land on his journey. Wishing to repay them for their kindness, he had gathered them around a campfire each night and had told them stories of every country he had drifted through and had opened their eyes to the potential of finding another home to replace their own.

On the day of the storyteller's departure, the warriors gathered and determined that the best hope their tribe had to survive was to leave their home in search of another. The warriors dedicated many months, enduring the changing seasons and the misery of famine, to build long ships fit to carry them across the sea.

The warriors traveled long and far, navigating through frightening storms and artic temperatures until they came upon the coast of an island unlike theirs—a thriving chunk of vibrant forests, green meadows and hills, and soft, fertile earth. Unaware of the presence of native colonies, the warriors claimed the island as their own, certain that they had been guided to its sparkling shores by their gods, and they began a peaceful settlement along the beach while they took their time exploring the rest of the landmass.

However, the island's inhabitants emerged from their hidden kingdoms and several expressed their disapproval by taking up arms against them. Those seeking a peaceful resolution went to stand on the warriors' side, wishing to protect them. The islanders hit the warriors with savage tactics that resulted in several deaths. After the first slaughters, the warriors had accepted their challenge of war and pointed their weapons against the opposition. They fought until they had crushed every person that threatened the safety of their people.

After the warriors emerged from the war victorious, they drove through the rest of the island, conquering it section by section, decimating every new army to spring up against them. Once remnants conformed to their rule, the warrior tribe renamed the island, Ione, and established their queendom under the under the reign of Io, their chieftain.

The first queens of Ione gave their queendom the right to boast their strength after defending their home from many local invasions. Ione grew into the most powerful country within the Byzen Cluster, but its rise brought stronger nations onto their shores intent to destroy them, which heralded an age of bloody wars for the Ionian people. Ione stood strong, preserving through several attacks, but it eventually fell to the might of a foreign country. The Ionian people bided their time during their subjugation and gathered in secret under the leadership of their rightful queen until the right opportunity for them arrived to take back their country. They succeeded and a new warrior queen took the throne.

Following the incident, Ione learned peace through the next generations of monarchs, flourishing into a country famous for their metalwork and a knack for farming—their long history of war and powerful warriors became a part of their "barbaric" past.

When the last queen, Ingrid, took the throne, Ione was at its peak. It boasted good relations with the five neighboring countries inside the Byzen Cluster, a permanent position among the best blacksmithing businesses around the world, a formidable military, fertile farmland to feed their entire country with enough to spare for the harsh winter, a stable environment for its people, and a rich economy.

Shortly after the birth of her first child, Ingrid became ill and prone to hallucinations, making her unfit to rule. By order of the Ionian House of Nobles, her husband, Prince Hákon, was made King Regent to rule in place of his daughter, Asta, until she was old enough to take the throne.

As king, Hákon, who was of ambitious goals, disbanded the Ionian House of Nobles for the duration of his rule, and thus, his reign began, undisturbed and unopposed. Wishing to return to the root of their ancestors and reclaim the power their country once possessed, Hákon made sacrifices to encourage the growth of Ione's military. He invested the country's wealth into new weaponry smelted from expensive and powerful black metal heralded as unbreakable and into the creation of new armors and technology to aid in combat.

Hákon passed laws that required a ten-year military service from Ione's male denizens as means to begin expanding his army's numbers. Service was mandatory to boys of fifteen years, though it did not include the two years of compulsory training, and that there was no age cut off. Every man was required to serve with the exception of those that were able to afford the yearly deferment fee for the mandatory length of their service. Unable to pay the enormous sum in their deteriorating economy, Ione's citizens were forced to enroll.

By his third year in reign, Hákon doubled the compulsory service and drafted women into their ranks, requiring a year of training and a five-year term. Pregnant women and married women with children were excused from conscription, which resulted in a significant growth in birthrates before the year ended.

In his fourth year, Hákon scripted new laws that offered criminals the opportunity to serve a life sentence in the military instead of facing prison time or the death penalty. The act enraged the population.

On the fifth year, Hákon faced the Commoner's Revolt. The people's growing frustration with the economic failure, the abuse of power, and the lack of common resources under Hákon's reign reached its acme, escalating quickly. Hákon ignored the rebellion until it resulted in the kidnapping of his daughter. Hákon mobilized his own private army and overwhelmed the rebels, crushing their uprising to retrieve his daughter. It had only taken Hákon a carefully calculated plan and two days to set it up to instill new fear upon his people.

In the rebellion's aftermath, Hákon burned down the province where the revolt had gotten its start and it killed hundreds of innocent citizens. His rule was never questioned henceforth. The people decided it would be best to live miserably with the faint hope that their princess would make it all better when she took over.

Four years after the rebellion, poverty swept the land with the crown just as impoverished. The debt they accumulated went into strengthening Ione's defenses and towards the continued funding of all its military activity, not to the people, who were dying of starvation.

As the death toll rose, Hákon decided to remedy the famine. He ordered the wealthy to give up thirty percent of their yearly wages to the impoverished. Refusal meant death.

Entire families were slaughtered.

After sixteen years on the throne, Hákon had accomplished his goal. He made an army out of the country. The active military made up seventy percent of the population, nobility made up five, metalworkers and merchants made up six, and the impoverished made up nineteen. He created a nation of warriors and killed anyone that stood in his way.

However, it did not matter that Ione's military power rose or that it became the strongest kingdom in the Byzen Cluster because it turned into a country where only the wealthy could live comfortably. They regressed, embracing their savage roots by invading smaller kingdoms to pillage and destroy to keep themselves from drowning completely in debt. They lost several of their allies and many trading businesses in doing so. They became ostracized and hated, slandered as tyrannical barbarians without any regard for human life.

With the kingdom in staggering debt and an unsound mind, Hákon decided it was time to arrange a political marriage for his daughter, using his powerful army and his country's famed metalwork as a bargaining chip that had several foreign countries attempting to appeal to him, though one stood out among the rest: the Kou Empire.


	2. (01) Bone Dust - Pt 2

**BONE DUST** |

{ **i** }

The Princess Asta of Ione stormed the field ripping lilies from their slender stalks. She was a slight young woman with flowing waves of thick, platinum blond hair and a freckled face. The skirts of her white gown were smeared with mud and her booted feet were buried ankle deep in the soft, wet earth. She snatched another pair of flowers from the meadow when a pair of unfamiliar men caught her eye. They stood meters away within the same field.

Her sudden halt offered her attendant enough time to catch up after she struggled to keep up with her longer strides for the greater portion of their outing. The curvy woman with short ashy brown hair took a moment to ease her breathing and approached the freckled princess.

Leaning forward discreetly, her attendant spoke, "That is Prince Kouen of the Kou Empire. The man beside him is Yun. He has been meeting with your father for the past month."

The prince stood meters apart from her amidst the same crop of white flowers staring back at her. His inexpressive face stood out for its impressive symmetrical structure—strong and perfectly angled to add a bit more refinement to his titled existence. His eyes were red and framed by red hair. He appeared small in the distance, but she could see that he possessed a powerful build—broad-shouldered with a sculptured torso—beneath his flowing traditional clothes.

His eyes narrowed in scrutiny as though he were seeking fault in her as other princes had before him and it frustrated her.

Asta had acknowledged that her position as princess had no meaning when it came to succession, despite bearing the title Crown Princess. She had been bred to serve one purpose for the sake of her country: marriage. She had been raised with stories about how she would be wed to some king or prince somewhere out in the vast world. As such, she hadn't been ignorant about the slur of proposals brought on a monthly basis seeking her father's approval, though she had been fortunate he had not deemed any offers worthy.

Ione had no laws forbidding a woman from ascending the throne, but it had been her father's longtime assumption that Asta did not possess the ability to govern their kingdom, thus his refusal to groom her into the next regent had come easily to him. Being the Crown Princess carried no substantial weight, but as she had no brothers, a successor had to be named to placate the people. However, she had known from when she was a child that Ione would not be ruled by her, but by husband.

She had learned that as long as she remained unmarried, Ione would be hers. Asta had often dreamt of it becoming hers. She had hopes of restoring Ione to the sanctuary it had been before her father had squandered its fortune by investing it completely on their military. Admittedly, Asta had been an infant when her father had taken the throne, never having known the prosperous and peaceful Ione her mother and the older servants had often spoken about so fondly.

Asta tore her gaze away from the foreign prince, shattering what quiet semblance had developed there, and continued to rip flowers from their stalks. Petals swirled in the wind spreading them across the meadow behind her.

She cursed her father's audacity for agreeing to meet this prince on the day of her mother's funeral. His greed had blinded him to tradition so much that he had seen fit to desecrate that day. She knew her father wanted her to save him from running the kingdom to the ground and suffering the shame of having done so.

"Princess!" called her attendant, chasing her through a path of trampled flowers. The older woman held the upper skirts of her dress bundled in her arms. "Slow down! You will damage the flowers if you keep ripping them like that."

"Why did he do this?" cried Asta, her reddened eyes filled with tears. She had cried all morning, though in all honesty, she had not stopped crying since her mother had been pronounced dead by the castle's physician. To comfort her, her attendant, Brita Grahn, had suggested they pick flowers to fill her mother's vessel to serve as another grave good. Brita had wanted to distract her from her sadness, and while she appreciated her attendant's efforts, Asta had never felt so alone in life that comfort seemed foreign and tranquility impossible. "How could he do this? I cannot believe him! He cannot wait a single day to continue his affairs! He has to do it today of all days! How can he do this to her? Hasn't he done enough?"

Brita stared at her speechless, her hazel eyes wide.

"None of that is important, Brita!" she continued, trembling with frustration. "He doesn't care. He's never cared!"

"Princess," whispered Brita, raising a hand towards her face.

Asta let Brita's cool hand brush against her cheek as she started to sob. The action comforted her and filled her with memories of her mother reclined in her cushioned seat telling her stories. Her heart was too heavy for her chest.

"Your father is saddened by Queen Ingrid's passing," assured Brita soothingly. "You should not be quick to make the assumption that he purposely agreed to meet with the Kou Empire. This meeting might have been scheduled weeks ago. You know that he could not afford to anger the Kou Empire. They are a much larger, more powerful country, my sweet princess." She caressed Asta's face lovingly. "Who could have imagined your mother would pass on so quickly?"

Brita smiled warmly at her, brushing the tears from her cheeks as they fell.

Asta nodded.

She believed goodness existed in her father—that he wasn't all greed and tyranny—and that maybe, just maybe she misunderstood him her entire life.

However, she realized that afternoon, standing in the pale shore of the Öman Province feeling the waves sweep across her naked ankles and watching the vessel carrying her mother's corpse being engulfed in flames, that he wouldn't attend.

The chamberlain excused his absence as a manifestation of his grief. Whispered opinions buzzed in her ears reminding her that she lost the kind, understanding mother that had spent years held prisoner in Io Castle's eastern tower—alone with the sickness that took her and the daughter that loved her.

What little remained of her heart, broke away with every snap of wood in the sea.

{ **ii** }

They were running away. She and Johan.

Asta had been in love with Johan since they had become acquainted during a victory feast her father hosted in their castle's Grand Hall. Being a princess, she had a responsibility to greet and thank her father's army for their military work. She had done it repeatedly—in annual gatherings, during celebratory banquets, through an onslaught of victory feasts and festivals as well as various promotions and honorary mentions. There had been nothing impressive about them. It had only required her to spend an entire evening smiling and amicable while she had shared the company of the army, learning about their fierce, gruesome wars and how they had earned each scar they had presented to her.

On the year of her fourteenth birthday, Werner Tjäder, the senior commander of the Ionian army, had brought a newly appointed commander before her and she had been stunned into silence by his charming face. Beautifully sculptured with an air of refinement, his head had been shaved on both sides of his head—blue inked markings decorated each side—and the tuft of dirty blond hair in the center had been pushed back. His hair had been so unruly that a few strands fell across his forehead. She had gawked at him, unable to produce words, when he had smiled and introduced himself as Commander Ek. His eyes had been bright like sunlight shining against water.

Asta had pursued him quite openly for the entire year that had followed, though her mother had discouraged her from doing so, having warned her against falling in love with a military man.

"Asta, darling," her mother had said, caressing her face lovingly, "you are a princess. Please, don't pout. I understand that you are young and that you cannot help your feelings, but you have to be careful. Guard your heart, Asta. That isn't just yours to give to anyone."

"But, mother," she had whined, feeling the comforting warmth of her mother's hand on her cheek as the queen listened, "I really like him. I do. I promise that I do. Father won't mind, I'm sure of it. Johan is a commander. He would make a wonderful prince. The people already love him."

Her mother had smiled. She was beautiful surrounded by the sunlight that poured into the room, the soft light had made her delicate features seem fragile framed by her flowing golden hair. "I am aware of that, Asta," she had said, "but you should understand that you do not just belong to yourself, but to the people. They are your family, and one day, you will be their queen. You have to make sacrifices for the better of the country. You cannot give your heart to any person. You have to give it to someone that will help our people prosper. You are the only one that can help this country become what it used to be."

"But mo—"

"Asta," her mother had interrupted firmly, leveling her green eyes with hers, "promise you will do this for me."

Asta had sunken into her seat of cushions, stomach twisting in her reluctance, and had replied, "I promise."

Asta had obeyed her mother's sound council, constantly reminding herself about her people and how a good match could help her restore Ione, but she hadn't been able to keep her promise, not when she had learned that Johan reciprocated her feelings.

Perhaps, everything would have unfolded differently if he had kept those feelings to himself, but she hadn't been given the opportunity to find that out.

Johan had loved her. Her whole world had revolved around that sole fact. They had maintained a secret relationship. He had sneaked away from his duties and she had avoided her tutor to meet up with one another, making a habit to convene in the stables.

Many had started to suspect they had secret rendezvous because she had stopped pursuing him as obviously as before. That had been her biggest mistake, but her mother never had the chance to reprimand her for it again.

Her mother had been weak, too weak to do more than lay in bed, her beauty withering as the disease in her body ate away at her defenses.

She had died after a long and painful struggle, leaving Asta to whatever fate her father had deemed worthy of her—a fate that he had already decided.

On the day of her mother's funeral rites, when her father had agreed to meet with the Kou Empire, it had been to discuss the obvious, which she had long before anticipated. Although, she had later learned that in detail from the castle's army and several house servants, though she had haggard them for the information she desired.

The Kou Empire's emperor had a reputation of offering his daughters in marriage to foreign kings and princes to expand the influence of his empire. It had been a known fact that the Kou Empire would reach out to him, the question had only been when, though her father had been certain that it would be in war.

The Kou Empire required little provocation to strike out against one; anything was reason enough—no matter how small or seemingly insignificant. Known specifically for having started wars against neighboring nations and swallowing them up was only a part of what made them so fearsome.

That sort of nation carried a certain appeal. They boasted power, stability, and riches.

It had surprised her father to welcome a Kou Empire's envoy _and _its First Prince and to learn that the emperor had wanted to offer one of his daughters to his son, thus binding their respective kingdoms in marriage. The two had been informed of their mistake; King Hákon had only a daughter. The First Prince offered him a brother instead, the Third Prince, a boy of ten.

When Asta had gone to criticize his absence, her father had relayed news of an accepted proposal. Her anger had increased tenfold at the prospect of being married off, more so when she had learned about the Kou Empire.

Asta had not been able to stand being in the same room as him, so she had left it in tears. Being married had nothing to do with her sadness. As she had sped down the stairs hoping to get away from the castle, she recalled how her mother had asked her to think about her country. She had known that her relationship with Johan had no future. She had taken her mother's words to heart, though she had not been as true to them. Her feelings had taken control of how she had perceived the future and every possible outcome had involved Johan.

She had grounded herself with a single question: what about the people of Ione?

That day had not been about Ione. It hadn't been about Johan. It hadn't been about the arranged marriage. It had been about her mother's funeral. And when she had brought it up, her father had dismissed it.

"None of that is important, Asta," he had snapped, and his words had echoed in her mind, increasing in loudness with the memory. "You are to be married! To a Kou Empire prince no less! Can you not see how fortunate we are?"

She had never felt so insulted and so equally devastated at the same time than she had in that moment.

Asta's engagement to Prince Kouha of the Kou Empire had been made official a week after her mother's funeral and had been celebrated in a lavish affair hosted in Io Castle. Although her fiancé had not been present, Yun, the envoy responsible for having encouraged the match, had stood in his place to welcome the praise Ionian nobility had to offer to the ever-growing and powerful Kou Empire.

She had resigned herself to the fate of a loveless marriage when Johan had approached her amid festivities with a gilded goblet in his hand and wine on his breath. He had walked up to stand behind her seat and had leaned forward while all eyes had gone to the entertainment.

"We can run away," he had whispered, his voice low enough to reach her clearly. "We can be together in some foreign land where no one knows who we are."

He had straightened and had walked away to rejoin his fellow commanders, having left her with her heart hammering wildly in her chest, pulsing from the sudden adrenaline rush. That idea had not crossed her mind, not once. It had simply been the end of the world when her engagement had been announced.

Asta had dragged Johan into an empty room as the feast had reached its peak in loudness. Her heart had been about to burst. Her mind had been packed full of ideas, worries, and possibilities. She had sat in her seat considering Johan's suggestion more and more until it had felt like the only outcome to their story.

Anxiously, she had taken him by the face. "Do you mean it? Do you want to run away with me?"

Despite her excitement, Asta had wondered if running away with Johan would have made her mother happy. She had a feeling that she would not have been pleased.

Johan had nodded; his determined face had hardened while he had gone into detail of how they would escape. "We'll sneak aboard a trade ship. It will take me some time to prepare, but leave it all to me. I will get us out of here."

Asta had had no reason to deny her heart. In that moment, she had forgotten her position. She hadn't cared about anything so long as Johan could be in her future. The sacrifice had to be made in order to prove that they were in love and she had hoped that her mother would forgive her for not thinking about what it meant to Ione.

In the weeks that had followed, Asta's excitement had mounted as the day of their set departure approached. She had spent several nights packing a small bag full of clothes, including what she had believed were her most expensive jewels to sell on the road if the need ever rose.

Johan embraced Asta as soon as the door to her bedroom slammed shut. Another two nights remained before their set departure, but as the thought crossed her mind, she and Johan jerked apart when the door opened abruptly. A crowd of military men spilled into her bedroom fronted by Ivor, the Commander of the Castle Guard, and surrounded them with their weapons drawn. Johan placed his hand on the hilt of his blade, poised to draw it if the need arose.

Ivor produced an envelope with a proud grin, holding it up for Asta and Johan to see the royal seal. Asta's heart drummed at the familiar curved letters that spelled the royal family name, '_Io_,' printed neatly in red wax. Ivor broke the seal to prove its authenticity and turned the letter for them to read, the smug look on his face did not disappear.

Asta gasped upon realizing that the letter was an arrest warrant issued for Johan signed by her father. She walked out from behind Johan and snatched the authorization from his hands. She read it over, but could not see past his name. She looked up from the letter to Ivor, dumbfounded.

"This cannot be," she uttered, shaking her head.

Johan took the warrant from her as well, his blond eyebrows drawing close together. He slapped the edge of the paper and looked defiantly at Ivor. "These are lies!"

"Johan wouldn't—"

"Oh, but he did," said Ivor, jutting his chin in Johan's direction. "Arrest him."

Asta threw herself between Johan and the soldiers. "Stop! Whatever the charges are, they're lies!"

"Treason cannot be taken so lightly, princess," Ivor answered, bushy eyebrows drawn in close, framing his angry eyes.

Stricken cold by the accusation, Asta looked up at Johan's baffled face.

"I haven't done anything, Asta, I swear," he said, reaching for her hand when someone seized her by the wrist and jerked her away from him. He looked on at her pleadingly. "I haven't. I swear it."

Asta didn't believe it. Johan had always been loyal to Ione. The idea of treason would have never crossed his mind.

The soldiers swarmed Johan and overpowered him while his guard was down. She blamed herself for it. Asta was pulled into the arms of a soldier protesting and struggling against the man's tightening hold.

Johan was shoved to the ground face first.

Asta screamed, fighting harder, but her small fisted hands did no damage. Her shouts and pleas were silenced quickly when the same man holding her captive covered her mouth, forcing her to watch as the other soldiers stood around Johan mercilessly kicking him until his face was a bloody canvas. Her screams, though muffled, continued to spill alongside the hot tears falling from her eyes.

"Secure his hands!" ordered Ivor.

Two soldiers responded by forcing Johan's arms to his back and tying them there with a sturdy rope. Johan lifted his eyes to her, his pale face swollen with contusions. She screamed harder against the hand, but her voice, despite being unheard, was giving out on her. Her throat felt raw.

"Let her go!" shouted Johan. A soldier took his head and slammed it into the floor again. His face came up worse, nose crooked. "She's your princess!"

"For that reason, it is our duty to protect her from scum like you," Ivor responded. "You have fooled our princess long enough."

Asta's heart raced, throbbing in her chest. She felt so helpless. She sobbed uncontrollably.

Johan was lifted from the ground by two others and though he could barely stand on his own, he rammed his head into the face of one of the soldiers, breaking his nose. The attack required immediate action. The solder to his left hit Johan with the hilt of his sword so hard it rendered him unconscious.

Asta cried harder, slamming her fists onto the soldier's arm weakly. She wanted them to stop hurting him. He did nothing wrong. She swore he would never think to betray the kingdom.

"Take her away!" Ivor demanded. "I'm tired of listening to her wailing!"

On Ivor's orders, Asta was thrown into a dusty room filled with cobwebs and tiny critters where she remained a prisoner for hours. She pounded on the heavy oak door until her fists were bruised and bloodied. She moved to kicking until her feet throbbed and she screamed with what little voice she had left until there was nothing more. She ordered audiences with her father, demanded respect as a princess, but for all she knew, there was no one beyond the door listening. She had been left there alone in the dirty, dank room without light submerged in a cold darkness that sunk deep into her bones. Her trepidation drove her heart mad and when she closed her eyes, she could see images of people twirling around the room kicking up the dust.

She covered her ears to shield herself from the soft whispers and the creak of the floorboards, feeling a chill raise the small hairs on the back of her neck and cover her body in goose flesh. She whispered a rushed prayer to the gods, asking that they calm her heart. She was imagining it all. The situation with Johan awakened this paranoia in her and the creepy room exacerbated it.

The walls whispered with her, seeming to echo her prayer, but the words spoken were foreign.

"Mom," she sobbed. "Mom."

She was terrified.

The door opened noisily when Asta had lost all perception of time, the sound startled her. Hákon stood in the threshold, staring at her with listless blue eyes full of forced emotion. She called for her mother, but her father came instead. The sunlight shinning behind him cast him in an unearthly glow. The king possessed a strong, lean body and a gaunt face partnered with deep-set eyes. His hair was fair, as light a blond as hers, and cropped short as if to give emphasis to the sharpness of his face.

Asta stumbled to the ground before him, her bloody hands leaving prints on the ground beneath her, and lifted her eyes to him. "He's innocent," she cried hoarsely, grabbing the bottom of his pants. "Father, he's innocent."

"For now," her father replied, surprising her.

Asta blinked. For a moment, she didn't believe she heard him correctly, though she had. "What?"

"We cannot do anything that displeases the Kou Empire, Asta," he said. "You've had your fun and now that's over. You are to marry a prince, so you need to be without fault."

Running away had been her last chance at achieving happiness with Johan, but it had ended with an arrest warrant accusing him of treason.

Asta hated herself. She was the one at fault. She shouldn't have accepted his proposal. She should have called it crazy and dismissed it for being too dangerous. She should have dismissed him, but she could never. She wanted to run away with him so badly it pained her that the option was no longer available for them.

She needed to save him.

"I'll marry the prince," she said quickly, "I won't fight it. I won't try to run away again, I promise. I'll marry him. Please, just let Johan go."

Hákon sighed. "That would be impossible."

"Why?"

Her father took her by the arm and gently pulled her back onto her feet. He took one of her bloody hands and clasped it between his, staring at her with regret. "He's dead. He was executed not too long ago."

Asta let out a shuddered sob as her legs turned to mush. She would have sunken to the ground had it not been for her father's sudden grip on her shoulders keeping her up. She shoved against him, repulsed by him, but he embraced her as she cried inconsolably. She couldn't form a proper sentence, let alone think to protest against her father, who ordered for the execution. All of her attempts to speak came out broken.

"Oh, darling, you need to understand," her father said, petting her hair comfortingly. "You would have never stopped meeting with Johan if he had stayed alive. You'd always be tempted to run away with him. You'd leave me. You'd leave this country." He kissed the side of her head like a loving father, but crushed her against his chest. Her fisted hands were digging into her own ribcage. "It will be fine, Asta. This pain—this despair—it will pass." She cried harder, unable to fathom the loss. "Silly girl, you truly think this was love? It wasn't. Commander Johan seduced you. You are only a child. You didn't know better. He didn't care that he was taking advantage of your youth and naivety. He wanted this kingdom, Asta, and he would have killed you if it meant he could have it."

"You're lying."

Her father pulled back and fixed his eyes on hers, seeming insulted by the accusation. "Would I lie to you, Asta?" he asked. "You are my daughter, my only child. You are all I have left of your mother. I want what is best for you. That is why I agreed to marry you to a Kou Empire prince. It is an advantageous marriage. You, and by default this county, will be treated well by the Kou Empire. So, I want you to realize now that this heartbreak of yours will pass and that time will show you that this was not love, just infatuation."

Asta grabbed her father's vest, scrunched up the fine fabric in her fisted hands, and stared at him odiously. "How is this wanting the best for me?" she demanded, crying. "I would have stopped meeting with Johan! I would have! You didn't have to kill him!"

"Temptation, dear child, is not something to be toyed with," said Hákon, removing her hands from him. "The Kou Empire would not stand for you to shame them by going behind your husband's back to fuck a commoner." He seized her by the chin. She winced. "You would bring about the ruin of your own country and your fate would not be a kind one. Think about our position, you stupid child."

He let her go with a flick of his wrist and walked away from her.

Asta finally sank to her knees and cried with her face in her hands. It didn't take long for Brita to discover her and try to comfort her. Brita brought confirmation of Johan's execution, having been present when it occurred downstairs in the Great Hall before several high-ranking members of the army and the Castle Guard. She tried to make Asta feel better by telling her that it had been swift and painless, but Asta had been there when he had been beaten bloody while surrounded by the threat of several swords. According to her, his body had been burnt and the ashes sent to his father in the artisan province.

Asta cried herself to sleep while staring the shadowed wall beneath the muted tapestry.

Morning arrived with the sound of several footsteps. Asta woke up swarmed by ten impeccably dressed attendants excitedly presenting her with a wide selection of beautiful gowns. They urged her to choose her favorite and refused to let her do anything until she had. She asked them to leave multiple times, but she was refused as they were acting under the king's orders.

Asta wanted nothing more than to sleep until the pain stopped, but she seldom disobeyed her father's orders. She humored the women and picked a cream-colored dress from various like colors because she favored the thick fabric for what she felt would be a cold day.

It wasn't long before Asta started to recognize the rituals that went hand in hand in preparing a bride for marriage. She was taken to the Royal Bathhouse in the Hult Province for a long soak where she sat submerged in the water shedding tears.

Once she returned to the castle, her gold circlet was taken and wrapped in a piece of red silk to be preserved and later be passed down to her daughter, as she had inherited it from her mother. She was dressed in the long, heavy gown she chose, her hair was brushed and styled neatly, and her face was washed another time. One of the older women berated her for crying.

"This is your wedding day! Not your funeral!" she snapped, startling the others. "You should be happy!"

Everything was happening too quickly. She felt miserable and guilty. Yesterday's events were still too fresh on her mind. How could she be expected to be happy after experiencing all of that? The man she loved had been accused of treason—she didn't believe her father's word—and he had been executed. She had been filled with regret.

Why did she pursue Johan so stubbornly? Why didn't she listen to her mother? Why couldn't she guard her heart?

The other women chimed in immediately, backing up the older woman and vocalizing their own desires to see her happy. Everyone appeared determined to ignore what happened. They committed their best efforts to exaggerate her nuptials in the hopes that it would overshadow all of the emotions she was experiencing—that the more attention they brought to how beautiful it would be would suddenly make her happy. As if everything else was easy to forget, something that she could seal it into a box.

It couldn't be done.

However, Asta understood that she needed to do just that. She needed to make it possible, even if that meant internalizing the pain. So, she redirected her focus.

Brita appeared to escort her into the castle courtyard. She took a moment to pull her aside, far from the other attendants, to speak privately.

"I would save you if I could," said Brita forlornly, caressing her face. "This is too cruel."

Asta took her hand from her face and smiled softly. "I don't need to be saved. Ione does." Her voice sounded brittle. She felt the tears building up in her eyes and fought against them. She wouldn't keep crying, she told herself. Not until after the day was done. "If this marriage can help me accomplish that, then it is my duty as princess to take this opportunity."

Brita nodded. "I understand."

Asta was married to the Kou Empire's Third Prince via proxy. Yun stood in the prince's place and accepted his vows to her on his prince's behalf. The prince, as she later learned, had been too busy to make the trip to Ione. Despite Prince Kouha's absence, the courtyard was decorated beautifully with a feast to follow and the ceremony was witnessed by the highest rank of Ionian nobility, who celebrated the union with the other Kou Empire's representatives.

By the time the marriage contract was finalized with her signature, Asta realized she was numb to the pain she bottled up. Focusing on the needs of her country helped her get through the ceremony without shedding another tear, but the landslide of new thoughts and ideas that provoked in her mind made her appear distant.

She failed to consider many things after agreeing to leave with Johan. She forgot about her people and of her own dreams. She was willing to give them all up for one man.

What would have happened to Ione if they managed to escape? What would happen once they were out in a foreign land? How would they rebuild? Would they get married immediately or would they wait a few years? What if the Kou Empire attacked Ione for her actions? She knew what kind of country they were and understood that they probably wouldn't take lightly to something like a runaway princess.

Sighing, Asta welcomed the noisiness of the feast while seated to Yun's left behind the main table. She drank deep from a goblet of sweet wine that made her head spin.

She was numb to it now.

The festivities were a blur.

Asta spent the evening neglecting the food on her plate and focusing on the contents of her goblet until Brita saw fit to exchange the wine for water. She turned her attention to the entertainment, a couple brutes decided to demonstrate their strengths in a bout that left one half dead and the other bloody. The enthusiasm of the crowd radiated through the room like electricity.

Yun leaned towards her after the half-dead warrior was dragged off to have his wounds tended by the castle doctor and asked, "Does this often happen during marriages?"

"I don't know," Asta replied, playing with her husband's wedding band, "this is my first time attending one."

He redirected the rest of his questions to her father, who sat to his right.

Once Yun rose from his seat, excusing himself and the others in his company, Asta slipped her husband's wedding band into a small velvet bag and handed it to him. He and the representatives would leave Ione the following morning to report to their emperor.

"Is there anything that you would like me to say to the prince?" asked Yun, tucking the small bag behind the sash tied around his waist.

Asta felt his eyes fixed on her as he waited on her reply.

She forced a smile, though her eyes were bloodshot and puffy from the crying she did earlier. "To stay safe."

"_And?_" her father stressed.

"…And that I hope to meet him soon," she added, pleasing her father.

Yun bowed. "Yes, Princess Asta."

He gestured to the others, who bowed to her as they uttered their farewells, and exited the Great Hall.

Her father placed his hand atop her shoulder. "Your mother would be proud of you, Asta."

She swept his hand off her. "Don't talk about my mother."

She called Brita to her and asked her to accompany her to her room. Brita helped her out of her dress and tucked her into bed that night. She stayed seated at her side until she drifted to sleep. The emptiness inside her stretched out its dark limbs perpetually and threatened to devour her.

{ **iii** }

Asta stepped out into the long balcony. The arched walkway faced the dark forests of the Hult Province behind Io Castle and wrapped around its eastern wing. The evening was quiet, the wind was a chilled whisper that swept through the trees and brought its hollowed sound whistling through the stone walls.

She walked through one of the arches and set her hands on the balustrade, which was icy beneath her palms. She twisted and turned in bed for hours unable to sleep before she left her room. She wanted to be alone to hear her own thoughts.

Castle life had gradually become hectic, but that had been due to a number of changes.

Two weeks after Asta's marriage to Kouha, the Kou Empire had assigned her a caretaker called Bo, who was a tall, thin woman with a long, elegant face, jet-black hair, and brown eyes. Bo had promised upon making her acquaintance that she would turn her into a real princess, one that would not shame her husband or his country.

Bo had started her reign of terror by throwing out a trunkful of her dresses and had them replaced with the Kou's traditional clothes, which were beautiful flowing robes of varying prints and colors, but none of which were comfortable for her to wear. Bo had subjected Asta to hours of etiquette lessons—to improve her manner of speaking and presenting herself, to refine her idea of table manners. Essentially, everything that Asta had been taught growing up had been disapproved by Bo, which had made it quite a maddening experience for her to entertain.

Asta's father had given Bo many liberties inside the castle, enough that she had the power to replace every cook, servant, and guard if she so desired. She had brought in new chefs to replace the ones she had deemed too old or inexperienced to run a kitchen properly, disregarding the fact that they had been employed there for ages, were trustworthy, and just as talented as the replacements.

With changes in the kitchen, Bo had succeeded in changing Asta's diet to make sure she gained a little more weight, but at the same time, not grow overweight. Asta had not considered herself scrawny as Bo had made it seem, but as her new caretaker had set out to fault everything in her—from her hair color being too white to be considered blond, to her body not being feminine, to her footsteps being too heavy—Asta had learned pleasing Bo would be impossible to do as herself.

Asta had steeled herself and endured by thinking about Ione. Ultimately, Ione had been the only thing she had left. She had felt ashamed for having considered abandoning it to pursue Johan. It had been selfish of her to put herself before the good of the country when she had dreamt of undoing the wrongs of her father. However, she had planned not to marry until after she had succeeded the throne and had returned Ione to its roots as a queendom. She had wanted to share that life with Johan. That would have been ideal. Johan would have made a great prince.

Why did she have to agree to run away? Why hadn't she thought it all thoroughly with Ione in mind? Having held onto those thoughts, Asta had felt guilty for not putting her nation first. She had remedied that by not allowing herself to feel miserable because of her marriage. It had saved her people.

The Kou Empire had sent more than just Bo. It had brought an abundance of changes that had helped her suffering country. Within a year, Ione had returned to being a functioning country, even the metalwork, which had become a rarity, had experienced significant increase. Although, she hadn't yet grown accustomed to it all, she had tried not to mind it. She appreciated that her people had been able to live comfortably that past year, adjusting to it as well as she was.

Asta had used the slur of benefits as enough incentive to bear Bo's demanding nature peacefully.

However, sometimes, Asta felt overwhelmed. In those times, she walked out into the balcony to stare up at the sky in search of stars and hoped that in the wind, her mother could offer her some advice.

Her peace that late night was short-lived. Footsteps traced her walk to the front of the balustrade where she stood, joining her. She peered up at her flaxen haired father staring up at the wondrously bright sky with his hands clasped behind his back. His company was the one she desired least.

She had not forgiven her father, a fact of which he was very well aware.

"Nightmares?" he asked.

"I came for the quiet," she said pointedly.

Her father placed his hand atop her shoulder, giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. "You have handled yourself quite nicely this past year."

"You say that as if I had a choice."

"Sacrifices need to be made for a kingdom to function," he said. "Johan had to be killed so you could marry a prince, as you were born to do so. Now, our kingdom has risen from the ashes of that fire that had threatened to engulf it. We will be better off now. There is enough food to feed the entire kingdom. The crown's debts have been settled."

Heart aching, she asked, "Was my mother a necessary sacrifice?"

"Aren't we all just sacrifices in the end?" he asked, stepping away from the balustrade. "You must have learned that, no? You have been so well behaved, so _mature_. You have remembered the people. You have learned your place. You are here to sacrifice yourself for those people. And your happiness should never be above theirs.

"When I first met your mother, I asked her what made a good ruler," her father continued, making Asta grip her arms. She wanted him to leave and never speak of her mother again. He made her suffer. What right did he have to say her name? She died in that tower because of him. "That was what she told me. She said she was willing to sacrifice herself for the people and that her happiness was never above theirs. Of course, she had only just met me. Who would have thought we would fall in love?"

"Leave!" she shouted, startling herself. She stabbed her fingernails so hard into her skin, the tiny crescents that had formed would likely turn to little bruises later. Her vision blurred with tears.

Her father smiled, parting from her with a few cutting words, "Oh cursed fate, for you were born a princess and not a prince."

Asta covered her mouth in time to smother the sob that would have betrayed her. She waited for his footsteps to vanish as she sank down to the ground, feeling the urge to scream until her voice gave out.

He made her suffer, too.

She had few people left to confide in and had more sorrow to bear alone, afraid she could not speak to another of such nuisances. Brita, who had been a comfort to her, had been sent away and replaced by Bo. She had others in the castle, but she had no desire to burden them. She had to appear capable.

Even now, when she wished she didn't exist.

So, she had grown accustomed to her sadness. It had blended into her daily life. She had started to wear it like a second skin—feeling the aches in her chest less and less, but she had slumps when those feelings had multiplied with the potency of poison mist that had threatened to suffocate her with sorrow. She had no room to feel depressed.

Bo found her outside and heckled her back into bed after her tears had dried against her cheeks.

The following morning, Asta learned that she would be meeting her husband for the first time since their marriage. This was long overdue as their union was close to reaching its first year. She initially had assumed that she was going to be taken to the Kou Empire to be at his side, but had been informed that he did a lot of moving and preferred her to stay in Ione. She had expected that to be the reason for Bo's appearance and determination to turn her into a real princess. Although it turned out not to be, she didn't question it.

"The meeting will span a fortnight," Bo informed. "You should be grateful. Although, the prince is extremely busy, he set aside this much time for you."

Of course, later Bo had mentioned the marriage could have been annulled if it hadn't been consummated before their first anniversary.

Asta was curious as to what duties took up the time of an eleven-year-old boy even though that was the least of her worries. She had qualms about the consummating part, most involved having no desire in doing so. She assumed that her father had included a condition that required the boy to have reached adulthood before they were required to consummate their marriage, but she had been surprised to learn he hadn't.

"Isn't he too young for us to consummate the marriage?"

"Young?" Bo scoffed. "He's a man."

A man at eleven sounded absurd to Asta, but she reserved her comments on the subject and decided to think up ways to prevent the consummation. She thought about suggesting a game to the boy instead, perhaps she could take him hunting. There had been plenty of game in the forest and she hadn't had the opportunity to go because Bo forbade it. Princesses had no reason to hunt, she had said, but she imagined she might change her mind if her husband approved of it.

"However, you must use your time wisely," Bo stressed. "A fortnight is not long and you have a duty. You must secure your position by providing him an heir."

Bo made it sufficiently clear that she expected Asta to be with child after her husband's two-week vacation ended and she humored her. That seemed like the best course of action available to her.

Truth be told, there was little she could deny in her position.

On the eve of her husband's scheduled visit, Asta was startled awake by Bo's horde of underlings. All ten of them poured into her room, stripped her of her blankets, pushed apart the windows, and tugged off her shift before she left the bed.

Asta stood before them groggily, struggling to stay awake after a very late night. She sifted through dozens of papers and scrolls that related to a slur of new laws that would either be implemented in her kingdom or had already been sometime during the length of her marriage.

Within the last year, Ione had faced the threat of an invasion. Ione, despite its rocky beginnings, had been viewed as a neutral party within the cluster of islands of Byzen, though that had steadily changed since her father had risen to his current position and had switched up the dynamic by returning Ione to its military roots. Other Byzen kingdoms had continued to support Ione through various means, but relationships had grown strained until one of Ione's closest allies turned against it, allowing the more unfriendly nations to rise up.

Asta's father had gone to placate them after the last conversation they shared had ended miserably, but it had been a trap. Angry as she was with him, she had been grateful that her father had been paranoid enough to take half the country's army with him, which had also left the castle's protection solely to the Castle Guard. He had been at war since. All kingdom affairs had been up to her to solve with the advisement of a chamberlain called Bengt.

Bo entered swiftly, dismissing the attendants she sent in ahead of herself with a snap of her fingers. They had finished dressing Asta in traditional Kou Empire clothes when they parted from her side.

"Look delighted," said Bo. "He has already arrived."

Her heart rammed nervously as she stared at Bo's thin face. "Will he want to see me?"

"What do you suppose?" asked Bo, allowing her enough time to shrug before answering. "Of course, he will. He needs to meet his wife."

She breathed deeply. She felt too nervous now that the day was upon her. She never expected the prince to arrive so early in the morning. She hoped to hear about his ship anchoring around dinnertime. By then, she would have had an entire morning and afternoon to calm herself down. She didn't know what to expect and it made her anxious.

Bo came to stand behind Asta and smacked her back, startling her. "And stop your slouching!"

Asta fixed her posture. "Sorry."

Her caretaker took the ends of the sash tied around her waist. "You know what you must do, right?" she asked, tugging at the thick fabric until Asta started feel lightheaded. "You must be charming, poised, and entertaining. You must obey him. Remember that you belong to him."

"And give him heirs," added Asta, seeing her reflection in the mirror. Her pale hair was braided along the side of her head and knotted at the base of her neck. She looked presentable for the prince, but she didn't feel comfortable.

She felt she hadn't given stalling the consummation enough time. The obvious course of action seemed to be the use of alcohol, but she wondered if it'd be terrible to knock him out with it.

"That is correct," said Bo, patting her back to signal she was done tying her sash. "Become worthy of being his wife." She leaned forward, her pale face beside Asta's reflected in the mirror. "If you do not tarnish this opportunity, you will one day become the empress of a great nation."

Asta turned swiftly as Bo retreated, baffled. "What?"

Bo glared at her critically, unable to understand the reason for her exclamation.

The first thing Asta had learnt about her husband was that he was the Third Prince. She had troubled believing that she'd ever become empress of anything, not with the length of the succession line if one added the eldest princes, their future offspring, their children's children, etc. She had trouble believing that they'd make it on the throne, not even if they tried to poison them all.

"Lady Bo," called an attendant, distracting her caretaker from questioning her confusion. "Prince Kouen is here. He wishes to meet the princess for tea."

Bo exited the room with an excited skip in her step. The attendant that announced Prince Kouen's request followed in tow.

What?

Asta didn't understand why Prince Kouen wanted to see her for tea. As the thought sank in, she slowly raised her hand to cover her mouth. Had she done something wrong? Had he arrived to offer her a divorce?

Oh, she wondered, and asked herself what she had done right?

She hated the thought immediately after it went past her head. Did that mean Ione was ruined once more? What would she do? What if the entire marriage was a giant ploy to get her father out of the country and take it over? That didn't make sense. The country practically belonged to the Kou Empire because of her marriage to the Third Prince.

She started to panic, pacing back and forth in front of the mirror. What did she do wrong? Why is the First Prince in Ione again? She didn't think she'd see him after learning he began his war campaign almost a year ago.

Bo reentered, her thin eyebrows drawn in irritation. "Well? What are you waiting there for? Come out here this instant!"

Asta followed Bo inelegantly, tripping more than once as she caught up to her. "I don't understand, did I do something wrong?"

Bo glared at her. "What is wrong with you now?"

She worried that she did something terrible. "I don't understand, Lady Bo."

"Understand what?" asked Bo, leading her down a staircase.

A trio of guards crossed their paths, bowing to her as they turned to continue their patrol up the stairs.

"Listen, princess, you must remember to be appropriate," Bo stressed, taking Asta by the arm to lead her down a hallway directly after reaching the bottom. "Be polite and be charming."

She stopped her before they reached the entrance of a door on the ground floor where two Kou Empire soldiers were posted.

"Do not make a mess of this, princess," the caretaker warned before taking her in front of the door. A soldier moved to open it for her, inclining his head when she looked up at him. Her heart thumped away in her chest, her nerves were terrible.

Bo urged her forward with a slight push after the door had opened.

Asta entered and saw the prince—much taller and intimidating than she recalled from their first meeting across that field of white flowers. She definitely felt like she did something terribly wrong to warrant his presence and she was terrified to ask.

She swallowed hard and inclined her head. "W-Welcome to Ione, Prince Kouen."

He nodded. "Why don't you sit?"

Asta tried to relax as she padded towards the only chair apart from the one he would be occupying. The room was small and rarely used with guests. Furniture was sparse, limited to a rectangular table and two padded chairs. The walls were decorated with portraits of beautiful nymphs or handsome men on adventures. All sat facing the three windows that looked out into the hillsides that obscured the capital.

She took her seat in the chair to his left and considered offering him tea, as that had been the plan and a steaming pot sat between them, but her hands were shaking. She placed them on her lap instead to grip her skirts and stared at the table's immaculate surface.

"Uhm…did I do something wrong?" asked Asta, struggling with every word.

"Wrong?" he asked, calm.

"Lady Bo said I was to meet my husband today and I—" She interrupted herself as she slowly met his gaze, watching as his eyebrow rose in question, and she understood. She finally put it all together and solved the grand mystery of the day. She figured out why Bo insisted that she be charming and not make a mess of things. "You…are my husband?"

"Are you disappointed?"

"No," she squeaked.

What did this mean? Did the Third Prince not like her? Was she too old? Wasn't there a Second Prince? Why did the First Prince of the Kou Empire see fit to marry her? Why would his father approve?

Ione was militarily speaking desirable, but he had better options. She knew. She didn't even think she made the cut on that list at all.

The sudden lull between them intensified the amount of discomfort she felt sitting in a table with her new husband, who turned out to be an adult and not a child, like she had anticipated. Not that she was complaining. With Kouha, there was all that talk of needing to consummate their marriage—him being eleven, that wasn't something she wanted to happen.

Looking at Kouen made her stomach twist into a tight knot. The situation wasn't any better. She appreciated that they were closer in age, but she was a little scared of him. She didn't want to think about consummating anything with this man either.

"I heard about your father's war," he said.

"Oh."

She couldn't believe she said that. Why would she just say that?

She needed Bo. She felt like a fish abandoned on land after a flood.

Her response invited another lengthy silence, as expected. She started to panic feeling his eyes on her.

She chanted Bo's name in her head, hoping that if she said it long enough, her caretaker would show up.

"You don't plan to make conversation easy, do you, princess?"

"Can I be excused?" she blurted.

"Go."

Asta nearly ran into Bo when she exited the room. Her caretaker was likely eavesdropping because she shot her a disappointed glare as soon as she stumbled out and shut the door.

Bo took her aside. "What is wrong with you?"

"Nobody told me I was married to him," Asta whispered, face burning from the embarrassment. "I panicked and ran. I run when I get nervous and panicked."

"Princesses _don't _panic and run!" reprimanded Bo, surprising Asta that she was able to keep her voice so low while conveying such strong anger. "Return to that room and apologize to him!"

"He let me leave," she reasoned.

"Go. _Now._"

"But—"

Bo shoved her back inside the room, bowing her way out with a prim smile on her thin face.

Asta faced her husband's scrutiny with a bit of embarrassment and lowered her head. "I apologize for my behavior," she said. "Can we try this again?"

"Sit," he said, leaning back in his seat laxly. He was quite bored with her and looked like he'd rather be anywhere else but in this room with her.

She wasn't very offended by her assumed observation. She wanted to continue being his wife without having to do any of the work. She suspected arranged marriages were awkward, but not like this. She couldn't believe she almost succeeded in getting out.

She didn't like being her. She wanted to be someone else. She needed to be the impenetrable fortress that was Bo.

Asta returned to her seat. Conversation wasn't her strongest point, not under pressure, and there was nothing but awkward stillness between them, which was not at all inviting, not like she was supposed to be. She didn't think she was inviting anything but silence.

She wanted to know if that counted as inviting.

"I heard you started a war campaign," said Asta, hoping that would be a conversation starter.

"I did."

She didn't know what to say to that. She gave up. She didn't know how to be engaging to a man. She stalked Johan until he finally paid attention to her. She had annoying habits that weren't going to work here. She wouldn't be able to get away with that.

"Forgive me, I'm not feeling well," she said. She unconsciously bunched up the fabric of her skirts as she shot him a passing glance. "I hope to see you tonight."

He nodded. His face was inscrutable as she turned her back to him and exited the room with as much grace as she could muster.

Bo stood outside fuming, though she wasn't as disappointed as Asta expected. Together they walked away.

"That was disastrous, princess, but at the very least you remembered to invite him to your room," said Bo. "If he shows up, it means you haven't ruined everything."

Asta grimaced, chasing her.

Admittedly, she was a little curious as to what would happen if she did ruin everything. Would he return her?

Bo arranged for Asta to be taken to the Royal Bathhouse. There she sat neck-deep in the warm, oil-scented water surrounded by hundreds of floating petals. She had been given the private bath, but had Bo and her ten attendants sitting around the pool on stone benches tending to her every request, so long as it was approved by her caretaker.

Normal occasions had required only the presence of one attendant and a small unit of members from the Castle Guard to protect her. However, Asta had done this to herself when Bo had confidently tried to send her off to the bathhouse, expecting her to be aware of what consummation meant.

Asta had wanted to lighten the mood and had nodded, before she had said, "Well, we should ask the cooks to start working or else they won't be done before nightfall."

Bo had snapped to her, annoyed. "What do the cooks have to do with your wedding night?"

"They're going to be the ones cooking all the cakes that Prince Kouen and I will be consuming tonight," she'd answered, innocently enough.

Bo had fainted into the arms of her attendants, but she had recovered quickly. "Cakes? You think you'll be eating cakes in your room?" she had cried shrilly.

"But that's what my mother told me," Asta had divulged. That hadn't been a lie. "My mother said that when a man and a woman marry, they eat cakes in their new room together." She had smiled sweetly. "I hope they'll have something with blueberries in it. I'm really craving blueberries right now."

"You won't be having any cakes!" Bo had cried.

Asta swam around the pool, listening to Bo shush the giggling of her attendants after she finished explaining what consummation meant and what happened during it.

"So, I should lie on my back and let him do as he pleases?" asked Asta, pausing in the middle of the pool. She cupped water and splashed it into her face.

"Yes."

"That sounds boring."

"It isn't supposed to be fun!"

One of the girls snorted and Bo glared at her, making the attendant pass it off as if she were clearing her throat.

"The cakes sounded more appealing," said Asta, and turned to her caretaker. "Do you think I could have some?"

"No." Bo took a towel from one of her girls. "Are you done?"

Asta nodded. She climbed out of the water and allowed Bo to wrap the towel around her body while she held up her hair. She took the towel and held it together with a hand, using the other to try and squeeze the water out of her hair.

Two attendants came up to aid her. One pulled her hair in another towel and started to dry it while the other started to pat her body down to get her into a thin robe. Once she was dressed, Asta was returned to the castle where she was escorted upstairs to her room to be clothed.

Bo remained long after Asta was dressed, providing her support, which in turn, made her more and more reluctant to go through with the night. She tried to make a joke out of it all, but it didn't make it better.

"You're nervous," said Bo, eyeing her from her seat across the room.

She nodded.

Bo left her seat and approached the round table where she poured her a cup of fragrant tea. "Drink this. It should help you relax."

Asta drank it quickly when Bo handed it to her. The liquid burned its way to her stomach, upsetting it instead of helping it.

Bo took a seat at the end of her bed, patting it in invitation. Asta decided to rest a bit and curled up beside her caretaker. The two waited in silent anticipation, every new minute was worse than the last. The longer it took Kouen to appear, the more Asta dreaded the night. She wasn't sure he would come by. She wasn't charming or inviting during their short conversation, if one could call it that. She was too nervous to function correctly.

She desperately wanted to avoid the consummation. Her heart was ramming in her chest. She wished Bo could stay with her, but she didn't think her caretaker would do much to help her. This was her duty.

She was scared.

Bo touched the side of Asta's face, startling her. "I apologize for startling you, princess." She brushed her hair behind her ear with a strange gentleness that warmed her. "You're in low spirits."

Asta denied the truth. She shook her head. Even if she asked Bo to postpone the consummation, she wouldn't. Bo's job consisted of ensuring Asta was a fitting wife and that the marriage worked. That was the same as Asta's duty, except she needed to give him children as well.

She needed more time. She couldn't do this. She'd panic. She wanted to run, but knowing Bo would lynch her if she found out made her reconsider it.

"Very well."

The door opened and Asta's heart jolted at the sight of Kouen. It was happening.

Bo got on her feet, patted Asta on the hip to make her sit up, and exited with her head lowered.

Asta sat up, pulling her robes closed, as he approached her bedside. Her anxiety made her body tremble, anticipation made her a little nauseous and fearful. She felt her eyes start to water, but pushed the emotion far from the surface. She exhaled, shakily, and lifted her eyes, scanning the simple white robe he wore on the way, and met his eyes, red like fire.

She didn't like his face, though it was not to say it was not a handsome one. It was serious and unexpressive. He made her uneasy in his overbearing presence. She felt small before him, insignificant. He cared about her as much as she cared about him and it crushed her to think this man would be her first—her last, her only.

They were two strangers stuck together for life. She couldn't imagine it getting better.

There wasn't need for words. They wouldn't make the situation better.

His touch was cold on her skin. His palm was calloused and rough from years of holding a sword.

She was clumsy and embarrassed, her face flushed.

This wasn't what she had imagined with Johan. That had been magical.

This hurt. It was uncomfortable lying bare beneath his body, accommodating it between her legs, feeling him pressing against her inner thigh. She didn't know what to do with her hands. She wasn't sure if kissing was appropriate. He never tried to kiss her, though at one point, she thought he could have. His face was so close to hers, she felt his hot breath burning against her shoulder, and he lifted it up, his mouth near hers, but he turned away, hooking his arm underneath her leg to slide inside her deep, pulsing. Her body arched in reaction and she ground her teeth to keep the sound from escaping her mouth.

She didn't think her pained noises were allowed, so she covered her mouth for the duration of the act, finally finding a task for her hands as the motions continued, the creak of the bed steadily growing louder with every bead of sweat that fell from his brow to mix with those forming on her face.

She felt her skin would melt off.

Asta tried to hold back the tears, but she was suffocating beneath his moving body, thrusting into her. She gripped the sheets with her free hand and endured the pain, feeling the trail of the tear that betrayed her run down the side of her face into her hair. The rest would follow soon after.

Her insides were sore after the act was done. Her body felt heavy. She didn't understand how this was enjoyable as she tugged the sheets around her naked body, lying beside him, curled into herself. She couldn't imagine enduring this until she became pregnant. She didn't like it.

Asta didn't dare move in his presence.

When he perceived her to be asleep, she felt the bed rise as he left it to redress and heard the quiet pad of his footsteps around her bedchamber. Her exhaustion took hold of her before she had the time to confirm whether he would leave or stay.

She dreamt of shadows dancing around her bed, twirling together in pairs, and woke up startled, searching the room.

Kouen sat at her table with one of her books, an old tome filled with folklore tales that had been a gift from her mother to use to understand her roots.

He looked up briefly, but continued to read. "You were having a nightmare."

"What?"

"It sounded like you were having a nightmare," he rephrased.

"Yes," she said, returning her head to the pillow. A shudder swept through her body. "It was just a nightmare."

She hoisted the blankets and hogged them since he didn't seem too keen on returning to her side.

She didn't expect him to spend the night.

It baffled her to learn that he did the following morning after Bo appeared to help her start her morning with a wide grin on her face.

"He looked quite pleased."

"You can tell?" asked Asta, groggy. She didn't think it possible for anyone to tell.

"He would have not spent the night otherwise."

Asta grimaced. He probably spent the night reading at her table, but she didn't want to crush what little happiness her wedding night's success had brought Bo. She had probably been under the impression that there had been enough consummation to last the night, but Asta had not been that determined to conceive.

Her marriage was officially legitimate, which meant she'd faster get out of it dead than by using any other method. Reconsidering the thought, she started to believe she wouldn't be able to break their union unless she was dead, and that terrified her to the core.


	3. (01) Bone Dust - Pt 3

**BONE DUST** | REN KOUEN

[ **i **]

Under the rule of a new king, Ione had abandoned their peaceful, metalwork trade and had steadily garnered a reputation for having a vast, powerful army—a prospect that had caught the Kou Empire's eye. The initial interest had grown with the notion of adding Ione's army to the Kou Empire's, which had advantageous potential if the Ionians were as bloodthirsty as their war history painted them. Ione under the empire's control secured the rest of the Byzen Cluster and its strategic position near the Reim Empire had sealed the deal for his father. The emperor of the Kou Empire had sent an envoy to propose their offer to Hákon of Ione of a royal marriage—a Kou princess for an Ionian prince—to create an alliance.

Yun, their envoy, had returned to the Kou Empire, reporting that the king of Ione had expressed interest in the alliance. Ren Kouen had heard the rest of the conversation in snippets as he had dealt with the preparations concerning another war campaign to expand their territory further west until his father had summoned him back to the palace.

"You will accompany Yun to Ione and solidify the alliance," his father had ordered, seated on his throne with his smiling wife perched beside him. The Kou Empire was only one of others reaching out to Ione and they had striven to be the better option of them all.

"Would it not be a better choice to send Koumei?" the empress had suggested.

Koumei had stepped forward silently and had offered to take his place, but had been denied and the room had silenced.

"It doesn't matter," Kouen had said, "I'll go to Ione."

History had claimed the Ionians were beasts in the heat of battle. Even Kouen had felt inclined enough to confirm whether that had been true or conjecture.

Kouen had arrived to Ione, surprised to find the Ionian king, Hákon, willing to accept the offer given to him without any consideration as to how doing so benefited his country. They hadn't discussed politics or policies from the start, the king had only asked one thing.

"Would my daughter be protected?" Hákon had leaned into the sturdy desk behind him as he had waited for his response. He had been a tall, blond man with deep-set eyes and sharp cheekbones that had exuded a sort of quiet strength.

"Yes."

Hákon had nodded, the lucidity in his pale eyes fading. "Excellent. Excellent."

"The emperor offers your son pick of any of the unwed princesses of our country," Kouen had said, beside him Yun had nodded in silent agreement. "The alliance will be settled with their marriage."

Hákon had looked at him, baffled, and had then turned to Yun. "A princess?"

"For your son," Kouen had clarified.

Yun had leaned forward to address him. "Ione has no prince, only a princess."

Kouen had recovered quickly from his blunder and had said, "Then we offer a princess to you as you are without a queen."

"We should be realistic, Prince Kouen," Hákon had said, beginning to pace, "I'm too close to death. Your empire would not truly benefit."

"Why?"

"Because Ione is a queendom and my daughter has many supporters," Hákon had explained. "I brought many changes to the country after I took control. My wife had been too soft, too idealistic. She didn't believe in war. She planned to leave us defenseless, so I only did what needed to be done." His tone had undergone a change, his deepening voice seeming more fanatical as his elucidation had continued. "It took time for me to gain approval from the Ionian House of Nobles and finally strip her of her power while making sure they had no say in my actions." The king had snapped towards him. "They plan to use my daughter to take back the kingdom, hoping that she can return it to what it used to be, but we can't have that. We can't have that at all. Of course, we can prevent it. Marry her off, have her husband do what I did. There are other princes in the Kou Empire. Marry her to one, it doesn't matter whom. You take her power and the kingdom is yours to do with as you wish."

"You don't care what becomes of Ione?" Kouen had asked.

"I am no stranger to the Kou Empire and its conquests. Your country's might is enviable," Hákon had said. "Even if I were to gather every man and woman in this country to fight against your empire, we would fail. It would be a laughable stain on our reputation. We have not known defeat in years and it would be our greatest shame if we would. Your Kou Empire will undoubtedly continue to expand. You would have come for us regardless, on good or bad terms. I would rather have Ione join your efforts willingly than challenge them to know shame because I have my pride as king. Surely, we share similar ideals. We worship power. Ione can add to your power, yes. The Byzen Cluster sits in an advantageous position against other foreign powers."

"The Third Prince," Kouen had offered. "He should do."

"Yes, that will do," Hákon had agreed, pacing once more. "How old is he? This Third Prince."

"Ten."

"Good, good," the King had said. "Not too young, not too old. Do you trust he would make a good king, even in his young age?"

He had trusted enough in Kouha that he could, so he had answered, "Yes."

"My daughter will be ecstatic."

The king had looked pleased as he had continued his pacing, muttering beneath his breath. Speaking to Hákon further would have proven troublesome as he had seemed more and more distracted the longer they had held onto the conversation.

Kouen had left instruction with Yun about the aid the Kou Empire would provide before departing from the king's office, the envoy had accompanied him. He had wanted to see what he could of the country before his departure.

Although, Ione had been famous for its military strength, it was universal knowledge that they were in severe debt because of it. Only those in the military and in the higher ranks had possessed the means to survive while the rest of the country suffered. The streets he had walked through to reach the Ionian capital were littered with famine and death, which had been the result of a decline that had occurred since Hákon had invested the crown's wealth on a stronger military. His rule had been problematic as a result.

The king's elucidations on the matter had started making better sense when Kouen had taken in the sights a second time. He had learned that the Ionian House used to possess some degree of power to overturn a monarch's orders, which had made them quite dangerous under certain circumstances, but they had been disbanded since Hákon had taken the throne from his wife. The leaders of the House had been sitting idle since, waiting to reform under the next monarch, Hákon's daughter.

"What is your opinion of the princess?" Kouen had asked on their way down the spiral steps. He had doubted he would chance a meeting with the princess after hearing she had gone to help with preparations to her mother's funeral, so he relied on Yun's opinions on the girl.

"The princess is a bit of a mystery," Yun had said hesitantly. "She is young. She is the most beautiful woman in Ione and the most powerful, whether she knows that is unknown."

"Is she anything like her father?"

"No, nothing like her father."

"If the Ionian House poses a threat, they should be eliminated," Kouen had said, believing that she would make as suitable a bride as any for Kouha. He had only hoped she was at the very least amusing, or else his younger brother would lose interest and likely forget his purpose in Ione. "Stay vigilant, Yun."

Yun had bowed deeply. "Of course, my prince."

Kouen had caught the eye of a steel-eyed warrior at the entrance of the castle with the sides of his head shaved and the tuft of remaining blond hair braided back to show the markings on the bald areas. He had walked on without looking at the man, knowing that he had glared at the back of his head.

"Commander Ek," Yun had whispered. "There are rumors about that one being a traitor."

"Hm."

Kouen woke up before his wife the following morning. He sat in bed beside her sleeping form and wondered what could have prompted memories of his first meeting with her father. He stared at her freckled face and questioned his choices; though accomplishing his goals took priority. Learning of Ione through further reading had settled his uneasiness, but it had returned suddenly when he had looked at her face, reminded of the statement all made about her when he had asked, the people love her. To what extent, he wondered, and for how long.

The princess shifted and Kouen decided to leave.

He exited her bedroom as a frazzled soldier approached him down the hall, relieved to see him.

"Is something the matter?" asked Kouen.

"We received word from the commander in Baryon," the soldier said nervously, "about the king."

"Did something happen to the king?"

"The king is dead."

"Has it been confirmed?" Kouen demanded, startling the soldier.

"Yes, it has. He fell in the battle for Corrin," the soldier divulged, "and the war is still going. Senior Commander Tjäder asked me to deliver the message to the princess and I…"

"I'll tell the princess," he said and dismissed him.

Kouen found one of his own soldiers and sent him off to gather others to take to Ione's current battlefield in Corrin to help turn the tide. If the king fell, the army would lose their incentive to fight and if that happened, they would suffer losses too early on.

He appeared to have arrived to Ione at a good time, now that his young wife had suddenly become queen.

Kouen returned to the princess' room, his mind calculating his next move naturally while taking all other related factors into consideration, but as he did, another memory came to mind.

Hákon had dropped in on Kouen unexpectedly weeks prior to making his move against the Kingdom of Corrin. Kouen had not expected to see him until his visit to Ione, but he had welcomed him to cross the borders of his most recent conquest.

The Ionian King had met with him privately.

"Corrin will take time to seize complete control over," Hákon had said. "I will likely be absent for your visit, but my chamberlain has been instructed to accommodate you throughout your stay." He had paced back and forth. "You should know that the House have been troublesome as of late, but I do doubt they will dare make a move against you during your stay. They are really after my daughter."

Kouen had remained silent, watching the king's anxious pacing.

"The princess is their grand political move," Hákon had expressed. "Extract me from the throne to have her ascend. They need a queen like her, someone young and impressionable, someone they can work through to rebel against change. Ah, but of course, Lady Bo has done marvelous work keeping the princess away from the influences of the Ionian House." He had paused to turn to him fully. "This has not been the first time that they have tried moving against me. They had a young commander in their service last year, Johan Ek. He attempted to kidnap the princess and force her into eloping in the hopes that it would prevent your marriage to her. I caught him straight away and had him executed for treason."

He was a traitor after all, he had thought.

Kouen had considered having the princess brought to him if leaving her in Ione meant complications, but Hákon had waved it off with a laugh. Hákon had proceeded to illuminate him on matters of war concerning Corrin, distracting him from the previous conversation briefly.

Once he had finished saying what he needed to say, Hákon had excused himself, but had not made it to the door before he had turned back around.

"My daughter is a simple, stupid girl," he had said. "She is, however, kind and the people love her for her character. If you face any hardship, you can use her to your advantage as well." He had raised a finger. "All you need to do is show her kindness. Perhaps, it is youth, but there is something in her that compels her to romance. In love, she would not think twice to oppose you."

Kouen replayed the memory in his mind, watching it begin anew in an endless loop. The king was dead and anyone that opposed the Kou Empire's influence could use the fact to fight back.

Despite how problematic Ione had the potential of becoming, Kouen sat at the table in his wife's room believing it could be an interesting development as morning light began to spill in through slim openings in the drapes. This would be the perfect opportunity to smoke out all his enemies and determine whether he had any use for them or not.

He glimpsed at the princess, sleeping so close to the edge of the bed. The people loved her.

The door opened quietly and the thin woman the empress, Gyokuen, had sent to educate the princess entered, bowing.

"Let her sleep," said Kouen, aware she had arrived to wake her.

"Yes, my prince," said Bo. Keeping her head lowered respectfully, she continued, "Your attendants are waiting in the guest room. Your breakfast will be served as soon as you are ready."

"Have the chamberlain meet me in a few hours."

Bo bowed again before excusing herself.

Kouen rose from his seat and walked out of his wife's room several minutes. He returned to the guest quarters to dress and took his breakfast. He learned that new arrangements had been made for him and his wife. He had gone to see that they were to his liking. The new apartments were roomier and suitably comfortable for two people as they included private adjacent chambers. The princess' boudoir was past the door by the fireplace and his solar was through a door to the right of the canopy. The solar was smaller than the bedchamber as expected, decorated lightly with black tapestries threaded with silver, moss green drapes that fell across windows that faced the vast forest of the neighboring province and a hill of orange wildflowers. There was a fireplace in front of a long wooden table with long benches on either side of it and a small bed in the corner hidden behind a pair of drapes. There were several tall bookshelves, mostly empty with the exception of a few woodwork pieces.

He had finished ensuring all of his things were intact when the castle's chamberlain walked in.

Bengt was a balding man that served Hákon since he took his position as king. He was more often seen carrying around a thick tome and something to scribble with, usually a silent man, but very knowledgeable of Ione's inner workings.

"Good morning, my prince," greeted Bengt. "I do hope the room was to your liking."

Kouen acknowledged him with a curt nod, sure to dismiss the two attendants remaining in his presence. "Tell me about the Ionian House."

"The Ionian House?" questioned Bengt. "Ah, yes. The Ionian House consisted of representatives from the leading noble families that acted as mediums for the needs of the people in the kingdom. They essentially reworked the Ionian peoples' wants and needs and restructured them into propositions they presented to the queen as potential laws. After a few years, the Ionian House flourished, grew into a governmental power that was eventually able to depose a queen if they felt she was an unfit ruler. When the princess' mother became ill and incapable of ruling, my king went through the Ionian House to see himself assigned King Regent until the princess was old enough to take the crown."

"Why would the queen offer that kind of power to the Ionian House?" asked Kouen.

"I believe she thought it was the correct thing to do," answered Bengt. "It was quite…progressive of her. Admittedly, the Ionian House worked well for Queen Elina, but it softened our people. More often than not our weakness was exposed and our fair country fell victim to the threats of some of our neighbors. We became a joke to them."

"If the king were to die, would the Ionian House gain power?"

"As the princess would be too young to rule and you would be viewed as—forgive me for saying this—an inappropriate choice, they would reinstate themselves to act as her councilors," he explained. "Ione would fall apart under the princess' leadership. She is too young and too soft. She would fall prey to the manipulations of the Ionian House."

"Yet she remains the most powerful person in this country, with or without her father present," said Kouen, reminded that the one fact about his wife that had stuck was that she was powerful within the country because she was loved. Even if the Ionian House came together after the knowledge of Hákon's death spread and his wife ascended the throne, she would remain his wife and the country would remain his. It only needed to be reminded of who rescued it from its ruin.

"Indeed, she is, but being beloved by the country for being kind rarely makes for even an adequate ruler. King Hákon wanted the country to fall into better hands, which is why he willingly sacrificed the future of Ione to make it possible. It was a blessing that the emperor would become so interested in our humble country and that you chose our princess to be your consort."

It was better to say that he married her army and that it had been a good match. The Kingdom of Baryon had fallen to their might and belonged to the Kou Empire. He had hopes that once his army reached Corrin, the third kingdom of the Byzen Cluster will fall to his nation.

"The king expressed his concern over an uprising against the Kou Empire's influence," said Kouen, annoyed by Bengt's subject change. "He said the princess would be used as a political move by the nobles that are opposed to my occupation."

"It is unfortunate that the king is dead because the Ionian House would not be permitted to act out. Doing so means treason. After Johan Ek, the House did quiet down significantly, but that is not to say that they have stopped working towards putting the princess on the throne."

Kouen rose from his seat, believing now was a good time as any to inform a few select individuals that he received news from Corrin about King Hákon's death.

Bengt took a step back, keeping a respectful distance from him.

"Have all of the princess' attendants called to the Great Hall," he told him, walking past him out the door. "Order the servants and the Castle Guard back to their quarters."

"Yes, my prince," said Bengt.

Kouen took care of gathering a select number of higher-ranking soldiers among the Kou's army station in Ione. The only people that had become aware of King Hákon's passing were the men he sent to Corrin to assist in the war effort. He made sure to have the messenger disposed of before he had the chance to take the information to House Tjäder, which tended to all military affairs. No house attached to the Ionian House held his trust, no matter how closely tied they were to the king. Hákon made more enemies than he could handle and ignored them.

Bengt entered the Great Hall with Bo and her ten attendants. The Great Hall was a grand room where most festivities were held with several tables coupled with benches and a raised dais at the end of the hall with another table where two intricately carved chairs sat, one stood taller and more pronounced than the other signifying it as the royal seat. The Great Hall was a little peculiar in that it was roofless, so anyone walking along the second floor corridors above it were able to look down. The second floor was filled with Kou Empire soldiers ordered to keep the Ionian Castle Guard and the servants out of the area if they disobeyed their orders to remain in their quarters.

"The king is dead," said Kouen bluntly, observing the quick change in everyone's expressions. He continued, divulging only the information he felt was relevant, "His body is being transported back to Ione. You are to keep your silence and ensure that word does not reach the princess until his body arrives, after which I will tell her."

"Yes, my prince," came everyone's reply.

"Bo," he began. "Clear the princess' schedule for the remainder of the week. If she leaves the castle, see to it that she is accompanied by a member of her guard and an attendant. If someone strange attempts to contact her, you are to present them as an enemy for the guard and have them captured."

"Yes," answered Bo.

He imagined the princess was perfectly capable of distracting herself when she had no responsibilities to worry about.

Kouen dismissed her and her attendants. As they walked out the large doors, he heard Bo tell the ten girls to keep their mouths shut about the matter or face severe consequences. He proceeded to speak to his soldiers, keeping the chamberlain waiting as he grew more and more anxious with every passing minute.

"Speak with the squadron guarding the princess and ask that their numbers be increased," he ordered, then dismissed them to deliver news of the kings death to every Kou soldier in Ione.

Kouen turned to Bengt. "Take me to Hákon's study."

"Right this way, my prince."

Bengt took him in the direction of the western wing, along the second floor's outer halls where he could see the Great Hall, and up a winding staircase within the western tower. At the top of the stairs was a heavy oaken door with an iron lock. The chamberlain handed him a key before excusing himself.

"Preparations need to be made for the king's funeral rites, excuse me," he informed, sidling past Kouen to descend the stairs.

**BONE DUST** | END


	4. (02) Ash Field - Pt 1

**TWO**: Ash Field

* * *

**The Ionian House of Nobles**

The Ionian House of Nobles was established by Queen Elina to offer the people a voice in country affairs by summoning ten nobles and giving them governmental power, as well as the ability to challenge the crown's actions with the presence of a majority vote. The Ionian House of Nobles was made up of the noble representative of each of the nine provinces that made up the Queendom of Ione—Tjäder, Öman, Nyström, Strand, Hult, Åkerman, Vång, Byquist, and Ljung— and of the queen's consort, Prince Acke, who was head of the House—Kron.

Each Ionian House representative listened to the needs of their province and singled out the more important matters to bring into a compulsory meeting held at the start of every month to discuss with his fellow nobles where they decided what would be proposed to the queen. The queen would then choose which new measures to implement and which to discard. The representatives had a chance to propose their rejected measures in following proposals twice, the second time usually leading to a vote. If more than eight votes were given, the queen allowed the proposal to pass.

The new governmental branch brought more security to the country's streets and allowed the expansion of various businesses that resulted in a wealthier economy. The people were happy with the system because it brought them many new benefits, like a lowered cost of living, the expansion of farmlands to increase the amount of food that circulated through their country, and the amount of work available for them. It also guaranteed that their voices were being heard.

Ione thrived with the presence of the Ionian House.

* * *

**xl**: We gotta remember these fellas.

I want to take the opportunity to thank everyone that added this to their alert or favorite list. And also, a special shout out to **Loteva**, who read the story first on my journal before I decided to post it here, and many thanks to these lovely people for reviewing: **lilith**, **colouredred**, **Musketeer12**, **lovinurburks**, and **mun3litKnight**. I appreciate all the motivating words!

**READ**: I created a Character List. You can find it on my wordpress. If you want a direct link to it, PM me.

**GUEST REVIEW RESPONSES**:

\- **lilith**: You will see her reaction in the next chapter. It might be a little...unexpected? I'm not sure. Thank you for reading and reviewing. :)


	5. (02) Ash Field - Pt 2

**ASH FIELD** |

{ **i** }

"Your new apartments have been prepared," announced Bo. The thin woman paced around the wooden tub where Asta sat soaking in lukewarm water, the suds around her faded slowly into the surface. "They're located in the eastern wing of the castle. I have already asked for your things to be taken into your new boudoir." Her jet-black hair was tied in a tight bun at the top of her head, stretching the skin tight over her angular face. As always, her caretaker possessed a natural air of sophistication that one expected from someone titled. "Is there anything you wish to take from this room?"

Asta did not lift her eyes from the water's shimmering surface. "The books in the shelf, the bow and quiver, and the mirror."

The bow and quiver she had received as a gift from Werner, the senior commander of Ione's military, after she had expressed her interest in joining his hunting trips with her father. It had been her first hunting bow.

The books held a special meaning to her. They had been given to her as she had grown older by her mother, who had loved to read and had wanted to share the world of literature to her less enthused daughter. She had never quite appreciated the books until her mother's death. Admittedly, she had not read any of them until after her mother's passing. Finishing each one had been difficult, as every time she had, she had hated that she had not read them as she had received them. She had wanted to share her thoughts about each one with her mother.

She inherited the mirror from her mother. A full-length mirror surrounded by flowers elegantly carved into blackwood. She had seen her mother stand before it hundreds of times tucking the loose strands of her hair, adjusting the skirts of her dress, staring fondly back at her in the reflection with a smile.

"Fu, pack the books in a sturdy container," ordered Bo. One of the many attendants at her command stepped forward, a girl with her brown hair braided down her back, nodding. The girl went straight for a small, wide chest sitting in front of the window and bent down in front of the bookshelf beside the canopy where she started to organize everything neatly. "Hua, you will take the bow and quiver to the new apartments and ask for help in transporting the mirror."

A second attendant moved out of the crowd of uniformly dressed girls, making a beeline to her treasured hunting bow. The girl walked with enviable grace, her face fine, and her eyes black.

Hua exited the room with the bow and quiver in hand.

Fu finished her job promptly, but unable to lift the chest with the combined weight of the books, she left it on the floor while asking for the aid of a soldier posted outside. The soldier entered with his eyes glued to the ground, despite the fact that the rest of Bo's attendants lined up around Asta's tub to shield her from his view.

"You have soaked long enough, princess," Bo decided, extending her hand in the direction of her attendants. "Towel."

A towel was placed in her hands and she unfolded it, extending it wide to wrap it around Asta's shoulders. Asta pushed her body out of the tub while holding onto the edges. She ached. Her entire being was sore. The warmth of the water had alleviated her tingling skin and had helped her remember what it was like to feel normal.

Bo gently pulled the towel around Asta, helping her dry herself. "Once you are dressed, I will accompany you so that you may acquaint yourself with the new apartments," she said, sounding excited. "The room is larger than this one, less crowded."

Normally, new apartments were prepared before a wedding ceremony, but because Asta's engagement and marriage had been quick, everything else had been pushed back until the contract with the Kou Empire had been finalized.

The eastern wing of the castle required some remodeling and a thorough cleaning, as it had been used mostly for storage after her mother's death, though her mother had only occupied the tower's apartments during her isolation. The guest quarters were located in the western wing where the king's apartments were located. The stone castle's west wing was always in use, while the east wing was left to grow cold and dusty. She heard the wooden furnishings rotted, the decorative gold and silver lost its splendor to accumulated grime, and the tapestries ruined by age. For a whole year, she had watched armies of servants enter the shadowy eastern wing through a pair of heavy arched doors with determination and had observed the same people emerge late in the afternoon exhausted and covered from head to toe in dirt, dust, or spider webs.

Bo had promised that the new apartments would be completed before the arrival of her husband, but something had prevented their completion, despite her knowledge that every bit of new furniture and tapestries had been added. Later, Asta had learned from Bo's attendants that several servant quarters and guest rooms had been spruced up to accommodate Kouen's company, as well as the round-the-clock guards assigned to protect them. She had assumed that had been the cause for the delay.

Asta glimpsed at her bed as the attendants helped her dress for the day: covering her naked form with a white shift, lacing up her corset, and finally tugged a simple moss green dress on her slight frame. Two attendants took care of combing the tangles from her hair before arranging it neatly into several small knots at the back of her head.

"Thank you," she said, smiling kindly.

The girls mirrored her gesture bashfully, bowing and excusing themselves to stand with the others.

"That was unnecessary," Bo said critically. "You have no reason to _thank _them. This is their job. Being in your presence should be gratitude enough."

Asta didn't feel like arguing and agreed with a small nod.

"Come, I will take you to your new accommodations," said Bo. She clapped her hands and dismissed her attendants. The girls exited the room single file and went off in different directions to continue their other tasks.

Asta followed Bo through the castle's long corridors, their bodies silhouetted on the wall by the strain of sunlight falling through the high windows. The light elongated their shadows, stretching them tall and at a sloping angle that made it seem like there were strange creatures pursuing them.

They entered the eastern wing after walking for a few minutes, stepping through the arched doorways of the tower that shot up high in the sky. Each wing was divided by one of the two castle towers. Her father had a solar up the stairs of the western tower and another bedchamber above it where he spent most of his time. The eastern tower had been her mother's home for years since she had lost her throne.

The dirty corridors were washed thoroughly and the walls were alive with soft light. There was plenty of movement with servants walking in and out of rooms, few carrying fresh linen, others with pitchers and basins for water. Each one paused to acknowledge her with a respectful bow or curtsy. Under Bo's careful observation, Asta paid closer attention to her behavior and mannerisms, conscious of everything that would incite her caretaker to remind her that she was a princess. A princess was poised, sophisticated, well mannered, and adored. According to Bo, princesses were supposed to become beautiful, dignified reflections of their powerful husbands. They needed to look good at their sides, like an accessory. She was far from the perfect accessory for Prince Kouen, but Bo promised to remedy that.

Bo led her inside a room at the end of the second corridor they had taken, welcoming her to her new room. Asta moved to the center of the large chamber, experiencing the new smells—of wood, fresh linen, lemon, and leather. The room was twice the size of what she was used to with two doors sitting on opposite sides facing each other closest to the wall where there were three windows. The pattern on the window's drapes was intricate, gold against red. It matched with the canopy's curtains that were tied to the four posts by gold cords. Across the foot of the large bed was a round table surrounded by comfortable, padded armchairs that sat in front of the fireplace. Underneath her feet was an imported, patterned rug.

"Your boudoir is here," said Bo, walking past her to the door near the fireplace. She pushed it open. "You will find all of your belongings here. Follow me."

Asta obliged her, stepping inside behind her. The color scheme within the room felt a lot more feminine than the powerful red and gold that decorated the previous one. There were soft grays mixed with pastel pinks and greens everywhere and a beautifully embroidered tapestry hanging from the wall closest to her. There was a single window and underneath it a clean desk with a chair. Beside the desk, behind a curtain hung from a line that connected one wall to the next was a small bed with a feathered mattress hidden underneath a blanket of furs.

The fireplace was smaller in this room. Despite that, there were several seats surrounding a sleek table where the chest Fu packed earlier sat. It was roomy and welcoming as one expected from a private chamber. She spotted chests of her clothes aligning the walls and a tall, wide wardrobe for storage.

Looking around, Asta knew that she would have her bookshelf placed in between the small bed and desk and the mirror would be in front of the tapestry by the entrance.

"Do you like it?" asked Bo, oozing with pride.

Asta imagined she was being obvious about the matter, but nodded regardless. "It's beautiful."

Bo ushered her out, making no move to walk her across and through the other door. She merely pointed. "That is your husband's solar. You should respect his privacy when he is inside and not enter unless he says you can."

She nodded.

"I will have—"

A knock silenced Bo. She excused herself politely and opened the door. There was a Kou soldier standing outside avoiding Asta's curious gaze as he whispered low to Bo.

"I will go immediately," Bo said, dismissing the soldier. She turned to Asta briefly. "Stay here, I will have someone bring you breakfast." She was almost out the door when she looked back. "Do not leave this room under any circumstances."

"Did something happen?" Asta asked.

"Your husband has ordered it," Bo said, as if that would be enough to stop her from wandering around her own home. Not that she planned to do any wandering.

"Okay."

With Bo gone, Asta jumped into the bed, which was softer than expected. She closed her eyes briefly, finding a small comfort atop the plush coverlets and furs. Lying still on her stomach, she imagined herself married to Johan. A small twinge of happiness puddled at the pit of her stomach and warmed her. She wanted to bottle it up in little vials. Little vials she could open up and swallow to lift her spirits whenever she needed it.

Asta married for the benefit of her country, as she had been raised to do. Her mother advised her to guard her heart, asked her to remain aware that she had a far greater purpose than to become someone's wife, and softly entrusted her with Ione. But Asta had done the opposite of everything.

She had been too eager to give Johan her heart, she had done it without regret, and it had been broken by his death. She had become someone's wife and her claim on the throne had become someone else's. Ione had benefited from her union, the poverty that had spread throughout her country had diminished greatly with the changes brought on by the Kou Empire, and while she had no choice but to accept it, she had her qualms. She had tried to feel content with the changes despite her uncertainty because it had done more good than her father had in his reign.

What she needed was a vial of courage and of ideas. She needed both because she didn't know what to do, and she imagined if she did, she would need a bit of valor. Happiness could wait.

Asta raised her head and listened carefully to her surroundings, curious that the shuffling had stopped. She left her bed. She walked to the entrance and pressed her ear against the door, waiting to hear movement.

There was none.

Baffled, Asta opened the door and poked her head outside, looking from side to side to an empty corridor.

Did the prince summon everyone in the castle? Was there no one left to watch her? As she let those thoughts run through her mind, sufficient time had passed for another soul to walk by but the corridor remained empty.

Asta stood outside her room, the door handle in hand, as she ascertained her current situation. About half an hour ago, the entire east wing of Io Castle had been filled with servants walking in and out of rooms within the servant and guest quarters, preparing them for their new residents. She distinctly remembered soldiers guarding the vicinity on her way to her new apartments and it was odd to see the corridor without their presence.

Bo also said something strange before leaving. She told her not to leave the room and when Asta prompted her for a reason, she responded that it was her husband's order. If that was the case, then who was around to enforce it?

She was alone and completely unattended. She decided to stop questioning it, let it be what it was, and took advantage of that fact to do something she wanted.

Asta went to search for Brita, who had lost her position as her attendant when Bo arrived from the Kou Empire to replace her. Since that occurred, Asta rarely encountered Brita, as she had been reassigned to work the farms in the Åkerman Province where her duties kept her from visiting the castle.

Brita was the only person she could think of to ask for advice. She listened. That was what she liked about Brita. She had been with her when her mother had passed and she had been the singular comfort she had after Johan had been executed.

Asta came across a stable boy after sneaking out of the castle through a pantry that took her closer to the expansive forests of the Hult Province. She ordered him to saddle her horse.

Once the boy returned from the stables with a saddled white mare, he helped her climb on, though she had to pull her skirts up to her thighs to straddle her horse properly.

"You never saw me," she told him, holding her finger up in warning.

He nodded. "Yes, princess."

Clucking gently at her horse, she spurred the mare forward into a nice trot, maneuvering her way along the smaller hills surrounding the castle. She slowed a few times, content with the feel of the sun on her face and the wind brushing the loose strands of her hair across her cheeks. She rarely traveled outside the castle because Bo was always monitoring her actions like a watchdog, waiting for any hint of impropriety to correct her.

Asta rode until she entered the Åkerman Province, which was known predominantly for its farmlands. There were many farm owners and even more farm hands to help during the harvest seasons. All crops were grown within the Åkerman Province, as the land in that particular part of the island had the richest soil. As the Åkerman Province was mostly plots of land, there were fewer than eight villages within it, excluding the property of House Åkerman, the governing noble family.

She guided her horse past tall stalks of corn, urging her to quicken to reach the wheat. The kitchen staff had informed her that Brita would be working in the wheat fields when she had asked about her reassignment.

Asta paused on the road outside the field of swaying wheat, seeming to shine golden in the morning sun, and surveyed the area for her ex-attendant.

"Asta!"

She startled, whirling around in her seat to see whether she needed to escape into the forest or remain. She recognized Brita immediately, though her skin was tanned from working hours in the sun, and her outfit matched with the dowdy brown dresses the other female workers wore, radically different from the custom made uniformed dress she wore as her attendant. Her short, brown hair was tied into a short ponytail and her hazel eyes were narrowed as she halted beside her horse.

"What are you thinking, princess?" she berated. "You should not be out here! Lady Bo will mobilize the entire Castle Guard to find you!"

Asta's hands tightened on the horse's reins as she lowered her eyes to them. "I wanted someone to talk to."

"There are plenty of people to speak with in the castle," said Brita. "Why would you risk coming all this way?"

"Because I wanted to talk to you," she admitted, which made the displeasure leave Brita's face quickly.

"Come then, follow me," Brita said, moving forward. "I know a nice private place we can talk, but only for a moment. You need to return to the castle promptly, okay?"

"Yes."

Brita led her to a small clearing behind a row of trees and bushes. Asta dismounted and tied her horse to a trunk, though Brita had to redo the knot as it came loose easily. There were a few small crates and barrels where they were able to sit.

"Most of the workers come here for their breaks," Brita explained, taking a seat on a rectangular crate across from Asta, "but since we're harvesting the wheat, everyone's too hard at work to take any at this early an hour." She looked to Asta with a welcoming smile. "I heard your husband is visiting. Everyone is talking about it. Are you getting along?"

Asta felt her lower lip tremble. "No."

"Why?"

"He scares me," she confessed, feeling a weight lift from her shoulders. "I'm scared of him. He's so tall and so big and so…he is not eleven like he was supposed to be."

"Oh? He wasn't?" asked Brita, surprised.

"No! He was old," Asta recapped dramatically. He was about four years older than she was, but she needed to blurt it all out before she could start looking at things like a rational person, though that was never her strong point. "My father promised me to the Third Prince and I got the First, which makes sense with how Lady Bo has been working me to the bone since she got here because suddenly I could be an empress to a nation that is going to just swallow everyone up. I was okay with Prince Kouha, but Prince Kouen is—he's _Prince Kouen._"

She didn't have a better way to describe him. He made her feel uneasy and awkward. She didn't know how to act in front of him without feeling as if she was being perceived as a fool.

"He should have married someone else," Asta continued. "Someone more important than me. Someone sophisticated and beautiful. Some princess or queen of a bigger country, not someone small and insignificant like me."

"Why are you saying this?" asked Brita, concerned. "Did he say something to you?"

"No, he didn't say anything at all," she replied. "I just feel inadequate, like I am a princess that marries a third prince, not the first."

"This is all politics, princess," Brita responded. "You understand how this works. It isn't about sophistication or beauty, it is about prospects. Prince Kouen is twenty-two and this was more his choice than yours. He decided to marry your kingdom, which is essentially what the king stated in your marital contract, wasn't it?"

"I know that," Asta said, frowning, "but I'm not ready to be his wife. Lady Bo wants me to have his children as quickly as possible. She is demanding we copulate every night to increase my chances of bearing his children." All the mention of intercourse and children made her remember her wedding night, which should have been romantic and magical like it was in her head, but was sweaty, painful, and embarrassing instead. The thought of it made her shudder. "It hurts, Brita! Yesterday hurt a lot! I don't think I can do it ever again!"

Brita blinked, almost surprised to have caught the shift in the conversation, and then smiled sweetly. "That's normal—"

"Everyone told me it was going to feel good! Stupid Vilhelm said it would feel amazing! But it didn't! It just hurt!"

"Why are you listening to Vilhelm?" asked Brita.

"Because Carina just laughed at me when I asked her!"

"Well," Brita began gently, hands up in a calming gesture, "it only really hurts until you grow accustomed to it. Once that happens, it will stop hurting and start feeling good."

"But I don't want to try it anymore."

"It's unavoidable, princess. As his wife, your first duty is to give him an heir. Given that he is the First Prince of his country, you need to do so quickly."

Asta shifted uncomfortably. "I know that."

"Look," Brita started frankly, reaching out to take her hands, "you just have to be honest. If it's painful, tell him and ask him to be gentle. He won't know unless you tell him."

"Do you think he would listen to me?"

"Why wouldn't he?"

Asta shrugged. She didn't want to imagine what kind of face he would make if she tried to direct him in any way. He'd probably just glare at her and she'd melt into the ground in fear.

"I am certain that once he gets to know you, he'll adore you," said Brita kindly.

"I don't need him to adore me," Asta said. Even with all of her complaints concerning the marriage, she wasn't searching to be loved. She didn't need to be loved by her husband. "I want to be married in peace. I don't want what happened to my mother and father. This marriage was doomed from the start, but I at least would like it if we could get along." What they needed was tolerance for one another and perhaps that could turn into comfort. Things would be easier if they were comfortable. "I'm just not used to talking to him."

Not coherently.

"Try," Brita advised.

"Lady Bo put us in a room together, I tried to get to know him, it didn't work," Asta said. "I just got nervous and ran. I messed it all up. I couldn't say anything to him. I couldn't really think. It was just so weird."

"Why don't you take him hunting?" Brita suggested. "That requires little talking. It might help you grow comfortable enough to find conversation easy."

"What if he's no good? What's the point?"

"Then, you'll just have to teach him."

Asta slumped in her seat. "But Lady Bo won't let me go out because I'm not the perfect princess yet."

"Nobody is saying to ask Lady Bo, you take this straight to him."

"And if he says no?"

"Why would he say no to you?" Brita asked.

"He might," she said. "He doesn't have any obligation to say yes."

"Well, you shouldn't be so quick to assume if he may or may not." Brita rose from her seat. "Remember, what your mother used to say." She reached out to help Asta get on her feet. "Now, I should be getting back to work and you should be heading back into the castle."

Asta walked to her horse.

"Oh, and princess," Brita called. "Remember that the faster you learn to get along with your new husband, the more freedom you gain. After all, Prince Kouen can decide that Lady Bo isn't necessary here and return her to the Kou Empire."

"But I don't want to get rid of Lady Bo," Asta responded innocently.

"It was an example."

"Oh?" She didn't quite understand. "Then what do you mean?"

"No, it was nothing," Brita said, smiling earnestly. "Good luck, princess."

"Thank you, Brita."

Asta rode back to the hillside of the capital where the castle was situated. She dropped the horse off at the stables to the same boy that saddled it and snuck into the castle through the same pantry she used to leave it.

She returned to the eastern wing with few distractions and as stealthily as she could, despite the corridors being empty. She had half expected to be caught by someone, but nobody had sprung out to accuse her of leaving the castle without permission.

Asta opened her door quietly, peering from one corridor to the next, ever cautious, and slipped inside. She took the heavy door and sealed it shut.

"Oh, princess, there you are."

Asta startled, whirling around, back pressed to the door.

Bo stood in front of the table in front of the fireplace, its surface crowded with breakfast platters and a glass jug of freshly squeezed orange juice beside a bottle of wine. Despite the sudden increase in servings, Asta could only see a single empty plate and glass situated in front of one of the cushioned chairs.

"I was about to send someone to find you," Bo said. "Your breakfast was cold when I entered, so I ordered the cooks to prepare it again."

There was plenty of wrong with the current situation. Bo was acting strange. The woman had on various occasions been guilty of making Asta eat her breakfast cold to remind her that she needed to have breakfast at an exact hour so it would never cut into the rest of her routine.

This time, Bo had asked the cooks to make her breakfast again.

Was it poisoned?

"Well, come sit," Bo said, pulling out the chair for her.

Did she find some strange drug she wanted to try on her?

Asta sat down, remembering her posture. She stared at the different platters, uncertain where to start. Her thin attendant did not make things any better by hovering over her waiting for a decision to be made.

Bo hadn't reprimanded her for disappearing, nor had she made a move to interrogate her on what her whereabouts had been prior to arriving.

She hoped her caretaker brought it up before she started eating, or else Asta would become too distressed by the criticism to finish her breakfast.

"Prince Kouen asked that we cancel your lessons for the day," Bo said nonchalantly.

"Huh?"

"Not _huh_, princess," the thin woman reprimanded.

Asta swallowed hard. "I apologize," she said, baffled, "What I meant to say was, _excuse me_."

"You heard correctly, Prince Kouen wanted your lessons canceled."

"Why?"

"Why?" Bo repeated, irritated. "Does he need a reason? You have the day to do as you please, so long as you keep a soldier and either myself or another of my girls with you at all times. The day is yours."

Asta fought against the automatic excitement coursing through her at the sweet sound of freedom. She had harp lessons today and she could not understand why she had needed to learn an instrument. Harp lessons had a tendency of going on forever too, as she had the misfortune of becoming the student to the world's most enthusiastic harp instructor. The woman had no sense of time. Bo had allowed them to go on for an extra two hours for entertainment purposes. She had discovered a way to punish Asta for all the unnecessary grief she had caused her for her own enjoyment.

"I can do anything?" Asta tested.

"Within reason."

"What is within reason?"

"Ask before you commit to any activity," Bo said, sighing. "Remember you are married and your actions are a reflection of your husband, so behave like a proper wife."

"I will do my best to act properly," Asta assured, then turned to her empty breakfast plate starting to grow hungry. "So, when is my husband coming? Will I have to wait for him long?"

"What reason would he have to come?" asked Bo, and then her thin lips curled with sudden excitement. "Did you ask him to come to your room? He agreed? Oh good, princess, you are taking this marriage seriously. I worried you would not be able to provide him heirs with how finicky you've been around him."

"For breakfast," Asta clarified slowly. She didn't know she was supposed to ask him to bed her. Was that a requirement?

Bo's face went back to neutral. "What?"

"It's _excuse me_, Lady Bo," she corrected purposely, enjoying the twitch of annoyance in her caretaker's eye.

"Never mind that, princess!" Bo snapped. "This attitude of yours concerns me! You need to be more proactive or else your husband will stray and you'll have to deal with concubines!"

"He can have concubines?" asked Asta, sounding shocked.

"It is perfectly normal to have one or two for a man of his status," Bo explained, looking proud. "He needs to secure his dynasty."

"I hope we can all get along well if we're going to be a part of Prince Kouen's harem," Asta replied, unfazed. She reached for a strawberry when her caretaker slapped at her hand and she released the fruit. She glared at her. "Lady Bo! _Why_?"

"There is no bigger insult to a woman than to be the wife of a man that needs a concubine!"

"But you said it was okay!"

"Not for one of my girls! This is why I stress the importance of your lessons!"

Asta blushed.

"Why are you blushing?" demanded Bo.

"I'm feeling quite touched, Lady Bo."

"Enough! Eat your breakfast before it grows cold! I will not order for it to be made a third time."

"So, will the prince have breakfast with me?" Asta asked, having not received a proper response earlier. "I don't want to start eating because it would be rude if he walked in to find that I have."

"Prince Kouen has already had his breakfast."

"When?"

"Before you were woken," Bo answered. "He is a busy man."

"But he's my husband," Asta said, confused. "I thought we would have breakfast together."

"That is preposterous, princess," she said, laughing. "The prince enjoys his breakfast alone. You should as well."

"But what if I want to eat with him?"

"Why would you want to do that?"

"I might not enjoy eating on my own," Asta challenged. "I might like to talk to someone instead of having you and everyone else just watch me eat."

"You talk to us regardless," answered Bo smartly.

"That's not the point and you know it."

She thought that perhaps having breakfast away from each other was the best option for them. She imagined that if they did sit in the same table together, it'd be as bad as their first meeting. Actually, Asta was sure it would be worst. There would be food. She would stuff her mouth full of it instead of talk.

"If the prince wants to have breakfast with you, he will invite you," Bo said. "Otherwise, you must be content eating on your own." She shot her a critical look. "And hopefully when he does invite you, you will have learned how to eat like a proper lady."

Asta purposely stacked her plate with as much food as possible, earning a disapproving glance from her caretaker. She ate a small portion of everything, believing it rude not to sample all the dishes the cooks had prepared for her, especially when they had done it twice.

Her short conversation with Brita replayed in her mind the entire time. With all of Bo's plans cancelled, she felt she wouldn't need to go to Kouen about hunting. Well, she wouldn't have to if it was _within reason_. She couldn't think of a reason why it wouldn't be. She had experience hunting. Hunting had been a common interest between herself and her father and the closest they had ever gotten to a bonding moment. He had taught her plenty, though not as much as Werner. She had given up hunting several years ago until she had thought of using it as an excuse to spend more time with Johan. They had gone "hunting" to a remote cottage that belonged to his uncle in the Hult Province. Her father had tremendous trust in him then. He probably had not known they were in a relationship. Perhaps, he had known all along. She had never been as discreet as she should have been.

None of that was important. Not anymore.

Getting along with her husband was. Hunting could be the bridge to get there. At the same time, she had her qualms.

She would be out of practice. Expecting to have a successful hunt was slim, too. She didn't think she had arrows fit for a hunt, either, which meant sending someone that knew anything about arrows to purchase enough to fill her quiver. She needed to find something comfortable to wear. She would also need a map. She didn't know the forest by heart, not completely. She recognized areas by sight, but only enough to know whether she had been there before or not.

Asta didn't understand why Brita suggested she take Kouen hunting anymore. She didn't want to take him anywhere. She didn't even want to be in the same room with him.

She needed to remind herself multiple times that she didn't have a choice. The marriage was for the people. So, she told herself to stop whining about him.

She would need to get to know him like Brita suggested. And if Brita didn't think he was a bad man, he probably wasn't. Asta couldn't judge so long as she knew nothing about him apart from what Bo had told her in passing, which had not been at all helpful.

Prince Kouen of the Kou Empire. He was the First Prince. He was a Dungeon Capturer. He led the Western Subjugation Army. War was where he excelled. He was handsome. He was always busy.

What else had she learned? Nothing.

That was everything Bo had bothered to tell her about her husband.

Asta had been under the impression that she had gone on one of her tangents to highlight the Kou Empire's superiority to the world, so she had tuned it out. At the time, Asta had been more interested to learn what sort of boy she had been married to, but Bo had continuously reprimanded her for getting off topic.

It made sense now that she was married to Kouen, not his brother like it had been agreed.

Asta decided she would invite him hunting after all. It was familiar. If things went as smoothly as their first meeting, there was hunting to distract her.

Once Bo's girls appeared to clear her table, Asta approached the thin woman with her request. She wanted to attain her approval instead of going behind her back to Kouen. If she said no, she would go to Kouen. If he said no, she would probably find Brita and tell her that her plan didn't work.

"Lady Bo," she called, hesitant she was heading straight for rejection. The woman dismissed the two girls she was speaking to and turned fully to Asta, her sharp gaze was a daunting sight. "Uhm…I was…uhh…"

"What? Enunciate, princess, you are mumbling," Bo interrupted.

Asta jolted, breathing in and out. She tried to calm herself, but her stomach was in knots and her heart was beating rapidly. "Hunting!"

"Hunting?"

"Hunting with my bow," she blurted. "I will bring the whole Castle Guard if you'd like, but I want to go hunting."

"Hunting?" asked Bo, arching a thin eyebrow.

"I want to take Prince Kouen," she added. If her caretaker agreed to the idea, Asta would simply ask Kouen if he would like to accompany her the next time she saw him.

Bo made a contented sound, saying nothing before she exited her room.

She blinked, watching her caretaker disappear down the corridor with her ladies in tow. "Lady Bo?"

As Bo turned the corner, she and her accompanying ladies paused to bow as Kouen walked past them. The opportunity to ask him to go hunting was perfect. She didn't think she'd get another good chance considering he was bound to be busy for the rest of the day.

Their eyes met.

Asta slammed the door shut as soon as he was near. She didn't think he was going to enter. She hoped he wasn't going to enter. But what was she supposed to do? She panicked. He made her panic into slamming the door in his face. Or was it near his face? It was his fault. He shouldn't have been walking through the corridors at that hour. It was too early.

_No._ She couldn't give up so easily.

She opened the door slowly, trying to do so quietly, but the old, oaken thing betrayed her when its antique hinges squealed in protest. She peered outside, watching Kouen pause in the middle of the hallway and turn.

He stared right at her, waiting for her to say something.

"Good morning," she greeted.

"It's afternoon," he pointed out.

Her mind blanked.

"Oh. Uhm—" Asta felt a dark presence, as if Bo lurked in the shadows glaring holes into the back of her head to communicate her need to stop with the mumbling. She stepped out of the room and approached him, feeling her heart beating nervously. She didn't know what to say.

"Is there something you need?" he asked.

This was harder than asking Bo.

"H-Hunt…"

"Hunt?"

"I-I want to go h-hunt." Her face was burning as she struggled with her words.

He arched an eyebrow. "You don't need to ask permission, you can do anything you want."

Kouen was about to turn around and continue on his way, but she spoke up immediately, "No."

Again, he waited.

She inhaled deeply, blurting, "I meant to invite you."

"To hunt?"

"Yes."

He considered it in silence before he finally answered, "It will need to be on a different occasion."

She felt a smile curl her lips. "Yes. Okay. You can keep going now."

Asta ran down the corridor behind her to surprise Bo, who was eavesdropping on the conversation. "Lady Bo!"

The caretaker startled. Her ladies giggled behind her.

She put her hands on her hips. "Haven't you learned how rude it is to eavesdrop?"

Bo's pale face colored. "What an absurd accusation? We were returning because I forgot to relay something to you."

"Oh? What is it?"

Her caretaker stumbled over words, unable to think of a single thing to say before she finally sighed. "You did well, princess, but you must work on your conversation. You were mumbling and stuttering and—"

"—princesses do not stutter," Asta finished. "I promise to do better next time."

"They also do not run through corridors in front of their husbands!"

Asta looked over her shoulder, but Kouen was long gone. "Do you think he minds it?"

"Return to your room, princess, and find something to entertain yourself."

"Yes, ma'am."

Asta obliged her and returned to her room. Once there, her quest for entertainment began, though she never thought to ask whether it was _within reason _to go outside until Hua entered on Bo's orders.

"Is there anything I could do for you, princess?" asked Hua.

"Would you accompany me outside?" asked Asta.

Hua had entered as Asta recalled riding out to the Åkerman Province that neighbored the country's capital. She had forgotten what it felt like to feel the wind rushing through her hair, to see the scenery blur in her surroundings as her horse pumped its powerful legs across the terrain, and to experience the anxiety in her ebb into joy with the feel of her body bouncing when in a slow trot.

"Yes, of course," Hua said politely. "Would you like me to make any preparations for you before we go?"

"Do you ride, Hua?"

"Ride, princess?"

"Do you know how to ride a horse? I want to go riding, but I don't want you to follow me on foot. It would be a bit unfair, wouldn't it?"

Hua hesitated. "No, princess, I do not know how to ride," she answered, "but if I may make a suggestion?"

"You don't need to ask, just talk freely. Go, go." Asta's easiness always surprised Bo's army of attendants, who were to speak when spoken to and never to offer their suggestions. They were supposed to be still and silent, ready to take on whatever task was assigned swiftly and perfectly. Ever polite and ever professional, they were nothing more.

Brita never shied from making suggestions or offering advice. In fact, if any one of Bo's attendants had been around to see how Brita and the other servants acted around Asta, they would have been scandalized. Bo had seen it and she had succeeded in having most of them reassigned to other parts of the country, replacing them with individuals more aware of their place. She had said there was too much camaraderie when there should have been more of a master-servant relationship. Some of her servants knew how to act in front of Bo, so they avoided her sweep.

"What if I rode with someone that is well acquainted with horse riding?" Hua proposed. "As you are required to have a member of the Castle Guard in your company, I do believe this is possible."

"I have a better idea," Asta said, moving to the edge of her seat. "I am going to teach you how to ride."

Hua's cheeks reddened. "No, there's no need."

"Yes there is!" Asta jumped out of her seat and grabbed hold of Hua's hands. "We're going!"

"Princess, please, I don't think this is appropriate!"

Asta pulled Hua out into the corridor where two soldiers from the Castle Guard fulfilled their guard duties. Both of them wore plated armor coupled with violet capes held in place by a metal brooch with the Royal House's crest. They were two of the fifteen guards assigned to her protection.

"Carina, we're going to teach Hua how to ride a horse," Asta said, keeping Hua in a vise grip to stop her from scurrying away. "Can you have horses prepared for us?"

"Yes, princess." Carina Olander left her post and walked down the corridor. Her high, blond ponytail swaying with each step she took. Carina stood taller than most women did, and in some occasions, most men. Her face structure was strong and androgynous. She was a powerful martial artist, like her brother, but a better swordsman.

"You heard nothing," Asta said, looking to Vilhelm Olander.

"What makes you think I'm listening now?" asked Vilhelm snobbishly. His hair was a darker shade of blond than his sister, his jaw was squared, and his green eyes were narrow.

"That's it, Vilhelm, that's the attitude."

"Stop wasting time and go!"

Hua looked scandalized by his answer, but she didn't have the opportunity to react because Asta was dragging her down the corridor.

Asta took Hua to the stables where Carina was helping the stable boy saddle three horses.

"Princess, you remember Elis?" Carina said, gesturing to the young boy.

Elis bowed respectfully. "Good afternoon, princess."

Asta smiled at Elis nervously before she gave Hua a gentle push forward.

Hua inclined her head. "I am Hua, one of Princess Asta's attendants. Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you, Miss Hua."

"Hua, you already know Carina, yes?" asked Asta, gesturing to Carina, who offered a shy, tightlipped smile.

"Not properly, no, nice to meet you Miss Carina."

"Yes, nice to meet you."

"Elis, you should come ride with us," suggested Asta.

Elis flushed. His big, blue eyes blinked in Asta's direction, filled with disbelief. "Really?"

"You're not doing anything, are you?" asked Asta.

"I have a few horses to—"

"Then you get the day off! Let's go!"

Elis smiled kindly. "Thank you, princess."

Carina took control of the afternoon, which Asta appreciated because all she wanted to do was trot around on a horse. She watched Carina as she patiently instructed Hua about relaxing.

"Horses are very intuitive," she heard Carina say. "If they feel you're scared, they'll panic, so you have to be calm."

Hua nodded and approached the brown mare cautiously, reaching out to touch it. Elis was holding the horse's reins, keeping her relaxed.

Asta enjoyed the opportunity to guide her horse through the long road that ran between the castle's surrounding hills. It was leveled ground that made for an exciting run. She followed the winding path closely when her horse squealed and rose on its powerful back legs so quickly Asta was thrown off its saddled back. She hit the ground hard with a yelp.

The pain throbbing at her back left her stunned. She heard her horse's powerful hooves stomp the ground as it went running up a slight hill. The soft _meow_ of a cat reached her ears and she could see a familiar, overweight blur stalking closer to her.

"Princess!" shouted Elis. "Miss Carina! The princess!"

Something soft brushed against the side of her face and she swatted it away, knowing the orange tabby was circling her like a shark. Its fur coated with dirt. "Joa, you came back."

It meowed near her ear.

Asta rolled onto her side, pushing her body up to a seated position. She felt the weight of a gaze on her that made her turn and look up. At the window of her mother's private library, she saw her husband briefly before he walked out of sight.

Carina and Elis came running to her side. The former quick to help her get on her feet while the stable boy went out to find her horse. Hua appeared a few minutes after, her hair windswept and short of breath. She gasped upon seeing her.

"Princess!" cried Hua, covering her mouth.

"Are you hurt?" asked Carina, searching her arms for any sign of wounds. "Lady Bo will not be pleased. Your back will bruise."

"It's fine, it's fine," assured Asta. She hurt, but it wasn't quite as bad as if felt on the way down. She noticed the cat sitting at her feet and reached down to pick it up. "This one spooked my horse."

"So he came back? Good for you Joa, you get to eat like a prince again." Carina took the cat from her arms and looked past Asta. "It seems Elis found your horse, he's coming back. Thank him properly."

Asta turned. The stable boy was walking back to them guiding her white mare by the reins.

"You should go straight to the castle's physician, princess," urged Hua.

"I'll see him after," said Asta. "Don't worry about me, Hua."

"But princess—"

"I'm okay."

"She didn't run far," said Elis as he approached.

"Thank you," said Asta. "Can you help me mount?"

"You want to mount again?" asked Carina.

"Yes, of course." Asta smiled, moving around to stand on her mare's left. She brushed her fingers over her pale mane. "She was just frightened."

Elis helped Asta mount her horse. She inclined her head in gratitude before looking to Carina. "Can you ask someone to feed and bathe him?"

"I can do it," offered Elis, receiving the tabby from Carina. "Excuse me, Miss Carina, Miss Hua. Excuse me, Princess Asta."

Elis departed with the cat in his arms. Carina and Hua remained with her until she dismissed them, reminding her guard that she had not yet succeeded in teaching her attendant to ride.

Asta continued to ride, laughing off the pain of her fall. She didn't want it to spoil her day. She strayed far to reach the edge of the Hult Province, a forest that ran so deep it seemed it did not seem have an end, and doubled back to see Hua sitting successfully on a horse fighting her own fear.

Carina found her as the sun hung low in the sky, coloring it with warmth, and beckoned her back to the castle. Carina helped her off the horse, excusing herself with her and Hua to return the white mare to the stables.

Asta and Hua walked back to the castle.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" asked Asta. "I saw you sitting on your horse earlier."

"Will you be seeing the physician now? You fell off your horse," said Hua.

"Tell me about your experience first."

"It was a good experience, but I doubt I'll be any good at riding," answered Hua.

"Don't panic when you fall," advised Asta. "You're going to fall eventually and it's going to hurt, but you shouldn't let that discourage you."

"Yes, falling is quite a frightening idea."

"I was very clumsy on horses when I was learning," said Asta. "That is why people still worry about helping me mount and dismount. I used to fall off ponies when I was younger."

"Did your father teach you to ride?"

"No, but he did try to teach me to swordfight," she recalled. "Ione is a military country. Even a princess can't afford to be delicate and sweet. That is what he used to say. However, I was disappointing. He would start guiding me and would grow bored soon after, then leave me in someone else's care. My mother wanted to teach me everything." She smiled at the thought of her mother. "She did everything she could before she passed."

Hua directed her black eyes to the ground. "You are very kind in sharing this with me, princess," she said. "I do believe all of our actions this afternoon were improper. Forgive my saying this, but you should be acting like a princess."

Asta grinned. "You know, my mother used to say something quite interesting."

"What?"

"You're both human beings, the only difference is what you do for a living," Asta said, looking on ahead. "I think if my father would have raised me, I would agree with what you believe, but my mother raised me. She fought to have me stay with her in the eastern tower. She told me that yes, I was a princess and that my station was far above theirs, but that I should never see it that way. They are working for me, yes, I am paying them, yes. However, that doesn't exactly give me the right to treat them like anything other than a human being. We are capable of loving the same, of experiencing joy the same, of growing anxious and feeling sadness. We can be hard workers or not work at all, but that doesn't change anything. You should never apologize for expressing a thought. Not when it's just us."

Hua smiled lightly. "I understand."

"They are, however, required to call me princess because I like it." She laughed. "And when I'm queen, they'll have to change it because I'll enjoy being called Queen Asta of Ione. It sounds good, doesn't it?"

"And one day you'll be an empress," reminded Hua. "It will be many years from today, but you will."

Asta scrunched up her nose. "Empress Asta sounds a bit funny, doesn't it?"

"No, it sounds quite nice," Hua said gently. "Emperor Kouen and his Empress, Asta. There. That has a nice sound to it."

She nodded. "It does, it does."

"You should hurry up and get along with him," came Carina's voice. The female soldier came jogging towards them, her platted armor clinking.

"I am," Asta said. "We're going hunting."

"Oh good." Carina rolled her eyes. "Out of all the enjoyable sports you could have chosen, you pick the one that requires silence. You can't be yammering while you're closing in on a deer, princess."

"I thought it would be easier, you know, until I get used to him," Asta pointed out.

"This is why we should have you practice with someone," Carina said pointedly. "We can try Kåre. You can pretend he's the prince and try speaking with him without running away or shouting at him."

Asta made a sound in protest.

Carina put both of her hands atop Asta's shoulders and steered her towards the back entrance. "Come on, princess."

"Carina," whined Asta. "No."

"You are the one that said that you wanted to get along well with the prince," Carina reminded, which made Asta regret making that known. "Things won't change if you don't put in the effort."

"But I invited him hunting."

"And I was surprised you didn't yell it at him."

Carina succeeded in guiding Asta through the patch of land offered to a vegetable garden provided for the kitchen staff and maintained by farmers. There were a few farmers present as Asta, Carina, and Hua moved along a lane of cobblestone leading up to a side entrance of a small brick hut connected to the castle's western wing kitchen. The hut's chimney was billowing smoke and the scent of cooking food reached their noses.

"Kåre!" called Carina, pausing midway to the hut's back entrance. She waved a dark-haired man over from behind the tomatoes. She leaned forward, near Asta's ear and whispered, "Now pretend he's the prince."

Kåre jogged over, tugging off his dirt covered gloves. He noticed Asta immediately and bowed. "Good afternoon, Princess Asta."

That would be difficult to imagine with Kåre smiling at her expectantly. Regardless, she tried her best to picture him as Kouen.

"A-After—ow!" Carina smacked her back.

"Miss Carina!" cried Hua, shocked.

"Afternoon," corrected Carina. "You can pronounce it like a normal person. Now, look him straight in the eye and greet him. If it makes it easier for you, just imagine he's a woman."

Kåre stared at them blankly. "Huh? What are we doing?"

Asta rubbed her back, grimacing at Carina briefly. She forced herself to look at Kåre's face, trying to imagine him as Carina suggested with longer hair, color on his eyelids, longer eyelashes, and red lipstick. He would look ridiculous with makeup on his face. It wouldn't go well with his beard. She snorted.

"You just imagined me as a woman, didn't you?" asked Kåre, disappointed.

Asta nodded, clapping both hands over her mouth to stifle her laughter.

"I think she just imagined you with lipstick," added Carina, laughter in her eyes. "Beard and all." She smacked Asta's back. "You were supposed to be imagining your husband as a woman, not Kåre!"

"I can't imagine him as a woman! I won't be able to look at him again if I did!"

A small giggle escaped Hua, surprising everyone into looking in her direction. As Hua's laughter escalated, everyone soon joined her.

"Princess! Hua! Guard Carina! Farmer Kåre!"

The laughter left them as they lifted their eyes to one of the small windows on the second floor overlooking the vegetable garden. Bo was poking her head out glaring at them.

"Look at the state you are in, princess!" criticized Bo. "Is that grass in your hair? Are those grass stains on your dress? That is silk, princess! Have you any idea how expensive silk is?" Bo's face grew redder as her voice turned shrill. "Is that—is that a tear I see? Hua! Guard Carina! You bring the princess up here this instant!"

"Do you see what you have done, princess? We take you riding and Lady Bo gets angry," said Carina. "Let's go."

"She's not angry, she's furious," said Hua, panicking. "I could lose my position for presenting you in this state."

Asta patted Hua's shoulder in assurance. "I won't let you lose your position over something like this."

By the time Asta presented herself before Bo with Hua to her right, her face downcast, and Carina to her left, standing stock still and straight like a soldier prepared to be reprimanded, her caretaker had prepared a longwinded speech about acting like a princess.

"This was _not_ within reason!"

"I didn't ask the horse to drop me, but it did!" retorted Asta.

"You let her climb one of those beasts!" cried Bo shrilly, directing her glare to both Carina and Hua.

"She's normally a good rider, but a cat spooked her horse," said Carina in her defense.

"And where were you?" demanded Bo.

"I was teaching Hua to ride."

"Hua! Guard Carina! You were assigned to keep watch of her not go off on your own and do as you wish! Riding horses, Hua? What reason do you have to learn? And you, Guard Carina, how could you leave the princess' side?"

"I apologize—"

"They had nothing to do with it," interjected Asta, though Carina was unfazed by the accusations. "I invited Hua to come riding with me and when I learned she had no experience, I employed Carina to teach her."

"_Miss_?"

Bo's yapping ended because Fu appeared to inform her that arrangements had been made at the bathhouse.

"Come, princess, we are going."

"Can't I bathe in my boudoir? I don't want to go to the bathhouse!"

Bo grabbed one of her wrists, raising it so the sleeve of her shirt pooled into the bend of her elbow and exposed the reddened scrape along her forearm. She turned her to look at her back. "Look at this! You have scrapes on you and bruises on your back! You need a special bath! Fu, you will accompany us to the bathhouse."

Fu waited for Asta and Bo to move forward.

"You will be without dinner, Hua, so that you may learn your place," said Bo. "And you Guard Carina will be reported to your superior for allowing the princess to get injured."

Hua was in tears.

Bo turned her irritated look onto Asta and clapped her hands noisily. "We are going _now_."

"Yes, Lady Bo," said Asta, scurrying down the corridor.

The bathhouse made for an unpleasant experience with Bo scrubbing her down to ensure every speck of dirt was cleaned before allowing her to sit in one of the larger pools to nurse the painful throbbing of her skin. She didn't let her stay long because she would be late for dinner.

"This is completely unsightly," continued Bo on their way back to her apartments. "Your back is bruised purple! I called the castle's physician!"

It was also starting to hurt. She didn't think she'd be able to sleep comfortably until the bruising stopped throbbing.

She laughed off Bo's worries. "It's just a bruise."

"You are being very difficult, princess," said Bo. "Had I known you would be up to no good, I would have stuck close to you. I thought we agreed you would behave."

"You said it only needed to be within reason, not that it required my behavior to be good."

"Enough! That's enough, princess!"

Bo ushered her inside her apartments where the castle's bespectacled physician awaited her arrival with one of her attendants in his company.

He asked her to remove her robe so that he could inspect her back. She sat atop the feathered mattress cross-legged holding her arms over her chest. He touched her back with his cold hands and applied pressure in areas that made her wince in pain.

"You seem to have suffered no further damage than the bruising," said the physician, moving out of the way to allow Fu to help her reinsert her arms through the sleeves of her robe. "She is quite fortunate. A fall from a horse on this terrain can be quite dangerous."

"Is there anything we can do?" asked Bo.

"Ice will help keep the bruising from spreading," began the physician. "First cold, then heat. She should have plenty of rest."

The physician asked to see her scrapes. He spread a sticky ointment across them to avoid infection and wrapped them lightly.

Bo thanked him for his time. He left her room with a respectful inclination of his head.

Asta's dinner was brought in and she ate little. She lost her appetite with Bo's heckling. She asked for Hua to sit with her to pass the time, but Bo informed her that she had sent all of her attendants away, save for Fu, who would be taking care of her back's bruising for the night.

"I do hope you know that I expect for you to make up for the time you will lose because you decided to ride a horse this afternoon," said Bo, tugging at the coverlets of the giant bed. "Think about what you can do to ensure your husband is pleased."

She patted the soft mattress, a gesture that invited Asta to lie down.

Asta climbed on the bed, pulling one of the pillows underneath her chin as she would be lying on her stomach so Fu could place ice over her bruise. Asta wished she could see the damn thing since everyone was making quite a fuzz about it.

"I can try to make him laugh, but I won't make any promises," said Asta jokingly.

"This is not funny, princess!" Bo tugged at the covers, draping them over her legs. She reached for her robe, pulling at it. "Get your arms out."

Asta obeyed and felt a cold breeze hit her exposed back.

Bo covered her back with a thin cloth before Fu took a bundle of ice in a white rag, placing it over the cloth carefully. Asta's muscles tensed.

"That's too cold!"

The door opened. Asta heard the shuffling of feet as Bo and Fu turned in the direction of the entrance, bowing respectfully with their hands joined together.

"My prince," the two echoed.

"Did something happen?" Kouen's voice reached her, deep and unconcerned.

"The princess had an accident," explained Bo. "She slipped on the final step of the staircase and bruised her back badly."

"It was a horse," corrected Asta, confused about why Bo would lie. She was sure Kouen had seen her fall off that horse, too.

Kouen said nothing in response. He walked around the bed and entered the room that sat beside it, casting a quick glance in her direction. She noted he wasn't dressed in his traditional robes, rather a simple white, sleeping robe and his red hair looked to be drying. She wondered if he went to the bathhouse as well. Someone smelled like those awful bathhouse oils.

Asta took a whiff of her skin. It was her. She smelled like patchouli. She hated the smell.

Fu stayed with Asta for several minutes applying ice over the bruise before Bo decided it was best to let her rest. Fu was the first to wish her pleasant dreams and leave. Bo unbound the curtains of the canopy, letting them fall around the bed, engulfing it in darkness, though a fire burned in the hearth, keeping the room lit in orange light.

"Sleep well, princess," said Bo from the door.

"Lady Bo?" called Asta.

"Yes?"

"Please don't punish Hua or report Carina," she said. "I promise none of this was their fault. It was the cat's fault."

"The cat?"

"His name is Joa."

"Joa?"

"Yes. He spooked my horse."

"You are tired. We can speak of this later. Good night."

Bo exited the room.

Asta used the opportunity to pull her robe on properly, trying to fall asleep in the darkness inside the canopy. She found it hard to find a comfortable position. She wasn't used to sleeping on her stomach. It always felt like she was suffocating and that reminded her of her wedding night, which she spent all day trying to forget. With that thought woven in her head, she started to wonder about Kouen and whether or not he planned to sleep in his solar. She only wanted to know in case she wanted to stretch out completely even though it was obvious that she could probably sleep horizontally on the bed with him sleeping vertically and there would still be enough room left for at least three other people of average build and height.

She also wondered why Bo lied about her falling off a horse. Was she not supposed to know how to ride a horse? She thought that was essential for any girl of noble birth. They were at least required to know how to sit on one. And it wasn't as if she hurt herself badly, just that bruise on her back and a few scrapes.

Asta put an end to her thoughts, rising on her hands and knees. She crawled over to the other end of the bed and climbed out. She padded towards the entrance of her boudoir, opened the door quietly, taking a candle for lighting, and slipped inside. She wanted to see how grave this bruise was if it had everyone acting as though it would spread and kill her.

She set the candleholder atop the desk where it illuminated the room enough. She moved to her mother's mirror, which had been placed in front of the tapestry as she had imagined, and started to pull apart the sash that held her robe closed. She pulled her thick hair over her left shoulder when she turned her back to the mirror and looked over her right. She let her robe fall from her back, shuddering in the night's chill. She saw the bruise, dark violet almost black in the orange light, stretch across her shoulder blade. It was a miracle nothing terrible had happened to her given how hideous it was. She noticed smaller bruises on her lower back, but they weren't purple, they were a light green and easy to miss. She found another near the back of her right hip and poked it, whining noisily when it throbbed in response.

Asta tugged on her robe and tied the sash messily. She didn't understand how any of her attendants did it, but they did a great job with it. She supposed that's what counted.

She went back to her room and went straight to the door. She poked her head out to see Vilhelm standing with a new guard.

"Weren't you all tucked in?" asked Vilhelm, his voice low.

"Where's Carina?" asked Asta, frowning at him.

"Probably crying in her room over what happened this afternoon. You know how she is, very emotional."

The guard with him laughed.

"I'm going to see her."

"Should you be leaving in the middle of the night?" asked Vilhelm.

"You can walk me, just to make sure I don't fall off another horse."

"You're not even on a horse."

"There doesn't have to be a horse. I'm going to fall anyway. There's stairs."

Vilhelm stepped forward. "Come on then. I'll walk you to our quarters."

Asta shut the door behind her as noiselessly as possible and followed Vilhelm to the sleeping quarters the guards occupied on that floor. He forced her to stop as they were about to turn the corner, holding his arm out. She heard a familiar pair of voices from the connecting corridor and knew they were her attendants.

Vilhelm took a step back, turning to her. "If they see you, they'll squeal to Lady Bo," he whispered. "Come on, I think we can take a different route."

But Asta took him by the arm, stopping him because she overhead strands of the conversation.

"…honestly…understand why she can't be told," said one attendant.

"We shouldn't…"

"Yes, but…"

"No, we…to judge Prince Kouen's decision…the information from Princess Asta…"

"Eavesdropping is a terrible habit," whispered Vilhelm. "You shouldn't pick it up."

"They are gossiping about my husband," said Asta lowly.

"They are also talking about you," he pointed out. "What? Did you suddenly develop some semblance of concern for your husband?"

"No, but he is mine," said Asta, receiving an odd look. "He is _my _husband. I can talk about him, nobody else can. That's just rude."

"You know, you're pretty audacious, princess," accused Vilhelm, looking at her disappointed. "Doesn't matter who you are, talking about anyone behind their back is rude. I thought Lady Bo was teaching you manners."

"She was, but it doesn't mean they'll stick," she whispered harshly. "Now shut up, they're arguing and I can't hear if we are too."

"You're an awful princess."

She jabbed at his arm with her elbow, moving closer to the wall, hoping that meant she might hear clearly.

"…but he's dead, her father's dead and everyone's just supposed to keep silent."

"_Shhhh! _Lady Bo will be livid if she hears us speaking!"

Asta lowered her eyes to the ground, her chest tightening. She looked straight at the blond guard beside her, who stared back horrified.

"Fuck," cursed Vilhelm, covering his mouth. "Wait, princess—"

She moved quickly, faster than he could grab hold of her. She stepped out from behind the corner, surprising the two attendants standing in the middle of the hallway, one holding fresh towels in her arms and the other carrying an empty basket. The two young women blanched at the sight of her, staring at her wide-eyed with their mouths agape.

The two reacted quickly.

"Princess, forgive us, we should be going," said one attendant, bowing.

"Stop!" commanded Asta, feeling every inch of her body tremble as she fought against the emotion clawing at her chest.

Her attendants froze.

"Princess," called Vilhelm, appearing beside her. "You should return to your room. Come, I will escort—"

"Vilhelm, you will be silent!" she interrupted, keeping her eyes on her attendants. She felt that if she looked away, they would see it as an opportunity to leave. "What is it that you said about my father?"

The two exchanged looks, one turning back to her and speaking, "Princess, we couldn't—"

"You can and you will."

"But the prince—"

"You will tell me," she demanded, her eyes growing wider the more she struggled against her tears. "If my father is dead, I have more right to know than anyone has to keep it from me."

They looked at one another once more.

"Yes, princess," said one, bowing respectfully. The other grasped at her arm, reluctant to give in. "We learned that your father, King Hákon, died in Corrin."

"We are sorry, princess," the other said.

"You will not speak of this encounter to anyone." Asta waved her hand, dismissing them.

They practically ran down the hall and out of sight.

Asta let out a shuddering breath, steeling herself. She would not cry for him. She refused.

"Princess?" called Vilhelm gently.

A tear betrayed her, stumbling out of her eye and rolling down to her cheek where she quickly wiped it from existence.

"Escort me to my room," ordered Asta. "I am tired."

"Yes, princess."

{ **ii** }

"How is your back?" asked Bo, observing her as she ate breakfast.

"It no longer hurts," answered Asta, distracting her pain by paying close attention to her table manners, which had impressed her caretaker who had not once corrected her since the food had been served. She offered her caretaker a small smile.

Bo clapped her hands, drawing the attention of all of her attendants. Each one of the ten young women in her service were performing their chores that morning, most of which consisted of tidying up the rooms in her apartments. They all waited for their superior to speak.

"Out, ladies," she dismissed, waving them towards the door.

The ten attendants vacated the room. Once the door was sealed shut, Bo uncharacteristically sat at the table with her.

Asta stared at her, baffled.

"Put the knife and fork down, princess," said Bo.

She placed both knife and fork down on the corner of her plate. "Is there something you would like to discuss, Lady Bo? Have my manners not been properly minded? Have I done or said something improper? Is my posture slack and unladylike?"

"No," said Bo. "You're perfect." She pursed her lips. "Therein lies the problem, princess."

"I knew it," said Asta, wagging her finger with an excited smile. "I knew you liked me the way I was."

"I am perfectly pleased that you do retain what I teach you and are capable of acting as one expects from a royal," started Bo, "however, your actions are quite telling. Something has you upset."

Asta felt her smile start to fade as she rose from her seat. "I know my father is dead," she said, watching her caretaker's expression change into one of understanding. "I know the prince asked you to withhold the news and I would prefer we leave it there for today. Can we start with whatever schedule you have planned?"

"There is no schedule," said Bo. "Prince Kouen asked us to relieve you of all obligations for this week. You are free to do as you wish, so long as you are in the company of an attendant and guard."

Was it pity?

"Oh. Very well."

"You should take the time to rest, princess," said Bo. "More importantly, you should take the time to mourn your father's passing. He was a great man and king."

Asta's eyes filled with tears. "He was a cruel man and a stupid king," she said, feeling her emotions betray her. "You know…I don't recall an instant where he was kind or conscious of me. I don't…remember ever feeling loved by him. Sometimes, I…I thought…he hated me."

She sniffled, swallowing hard. A tear hung at the edge of her right eye, teetering as she tilted her head back to stop it from falling.

Bo rose from her seat, advancing towards her with her hands clasped in front of her chest. "Princess, may I?"

Asta stared at her caretaker, confused. "What?"

Her caretaker opened her arms, beckoning her. Asta walked into them, giving her permission to fold them across her back. Bo embraced her, holding the back of her head with one of her bony-fingered hands. "You are far too kind to withhold all the tears you wish to shed for him."

Asta's cheek was pressed against her thin shoulder. She blinked and her vision blurred. She stood in place with her arms at her sides realizing the little strength that built up the walls holding back her sadness were covered in cracks.

"Be it cruel or foolish, he was your father and you loved him more than you think you hated him."

She sobbed and it broke her. She cried, clinging to Bo. She felt her heart pounding, desperate to see the sadness leave her body because her father didn't deserve her tears.

She could never erase that he was her father and that that had always been reason enough to love him. She cared for him, though he kept her at a distance. She worried for him, though he rarely spoke to her. She hated what he did to her, spurning her mother, killing Johan, treating her like a stranger in their home, expressing affection when convenient, and marrying her to keep her from ascending the throne. Everything he broke, he did not want her to fix.

He broke her heart again. Like always.

Bo let her cry on her shoulder until the worst of it was over. She asked Asta to rest for the sake of her heart and her bruise, which hurt more that morning than it had yesterday night. She excused herself to fetch her tea, asking her attendants to clear the breakfast table when Asta refused to eat more.

She even left her alone at her request once a pot of tea had been brought.

Losing her father was different from her mother. With her mother, it had been difficult to imagine how it'd be to smile and laugh. She'd tried everything to preserve her in memory. She'd managed that, but she'd wanted the details.

Asta had no idea what her voice had been like. Not anymore. Her mother had always sung to her. Old songs, new songs, all songs. It hadn't matter what song, she'd sang because she loved it.

She probably had a beautiful voice.

After a year, Asta hadn't a clue what it had been like. She'd given anything to hear it.

Losing her mother had been like learning to walk again after both of her legs had been broken.

Death had always been that way. Brita had told her that one had to learn to live without the people they loved once they had died. They had to learn to walk again with stumbles and falls. They had to keep going and practicing and using anything available to help themselves.

Losing her mother had prepared her for the loss of her father. It had certainly helped her overcome Johan's death. Maybe that had been the reason she had died first, so that she'd ache so badly that she wouldn't feel it as strongly the next time she experienced death.

Losing her father had been like breaking both of her legs a second time. She had some idea of what to expect, so she wouldn't have to go about it blindly. She had knowledge that she'd stumble and fall, that she'd need to persevere and continue practicing. She'd have to accommodate her father's absence into her life.

She wished it hurt less, but it didn't. It was like reopening an old wound with a knife, carving it deep so it left a bigger scar over the still healing flesh.

Asta heard the door open quietly and glanced at it, expecting Bo, but finding Brita instead. She scrambled out of bed and practically threw herself into Brita's arms, clutching at her with trembling hands.

"I don't have much time," said Brita, gently tugging at her arms. She stared her in the eyes. "You have my condolences for your loss, princess, but from this point forward, you need to be strong. You are now legally the queen of this country, so you must be careful about whom you trust."

At the entrance, she heard Vilhelm call, "Brita, you need to hurry."

Brita placed both hands on either side of Asta's face, wiping the tears from her eyes with her thumbs. "Be wary."

The older woman kissed her cheek. "Come find me if you can."

Asta nodded, reluctant to let Brita go. She sank into a seat at the edge of her bed after she was gone. She didn't know what to do. She didn't know what she was supposed to do in this situation. She hadn't even considered the state of Ione. She didn't even think she could be queen when her husband was present.

Who was she supposed to go to when she needed to be wary of who to trust?

Bo fetched Asta to meet Kouen later that evening. She figured word had reached him that she had already become aware of her father's death, despite his efforts to keep it hidden. She had wanted to refuse seeing him, but had found strength enough to reconsider.

She needed to ask about the details surrounding her father's death. She wanted to know if his body had been brought to Ione or if it had been lost in the battlefield. She also desired to learn the reason as to why he ordered everyone to remain silent about the matter because she didn't understand. If it was pity, would she have to respond to it as a compliment? If it was for a different purpose, would she know what to do?

Kouen was inside the western tower, in the room that her father called his office, with her father's chamberlain, Bengt. His back was to her when she entered without Bo's company. The office was a large circular room filled with short bookcases that aligned the walls and a heavy desk in the center piled with stacks of old tomes and official documents.

Bengt excused himself, pausing in front of her. The man was old, wrinkled, and balding. He followed her father everywhere jotting down notes in that book he carried with him everywhere. He aided her whenever she was left in charge of the kingdom, but that never worked out accordingly. He appeared harmless, but he was anything but that. She knew immediately that she should be wary about him from the first time they met.

"My condolences, prin—"

"Get out," she ordered, leaving him stunned. She didn't want his feigned sympathies.

Bengt left them alone in the room.

Kouen faced her fully, red eyes settled on hers. "You have my sympathies."

"Thank you," she replied politely. She lowered her eyes, unable to keep herself from feeling ill with the anxiety welling in her stomach. She sighed. "How did he die?"

"On the battlefield on Corrin," answered Kouen, not an ounce of emotion present in his voice. "He received a blow to his head that killed him instantly."

"Oh."

"Sit, we will be discussing Ione." He walked around the largest desk in her father's circular office and took a seat.

Asta approached the desk, but did not sit. "What is there to discuss?" she asked. "Now that my father is dead, this country is yours."

"Your father being alive made no difference," he said. "This country has been mine since our proxy marriage took place."

She felt a flare of emotion cut through the melancholy that possessed her. "You're right," she replied. "It is yours. I apologize for my ignorance."

She wasn't thinking straight, otherwise, she wouldn't have overlooked the glaring reminders that the country belonged to the Kou Empire. After all, it was their money, their food, and their support that revitalized Ione.

Asta took a deep breath, calming herself.

"Although the reality is fairly obvious, there are prominent members of the deposed Ionian House that reject the new system I want implemented," Kouen began. "While I find they can easily be subjugated if your life were threatened"—he paused—"you are my wife and will be treated as such. Rest assured, princess, I will not mistreat you."

"What do you expect me to do?" asked Asta, wary of his words.

"Once the news of the king's death becomes public knowledge, the Ionian House will be reinstated and they will likely push to crown you queen," he explained. "What I expect you to do is to persuade them into bending their will to the Kou Empire."

Her tongue felt dry in her mouth. She had been born after the Ionian House had been dissolved, so she had not known anything apart from what her mother had said and it had been that the House had been good to Ione. She had met the representatives of each province through social gatherings, but none of their meetings had involved politics. She had no idea whether what he asked for was possible at all or not. She and those representatives had been nothing but passing acquaintances.

"And if I can't do it?"

"I will take control of this country by force," he stated. "We will meet with the Ionian House in two days' time. You can begin there."

She understood that he was offering her an opportunity to settle things without violent means, but still, she was afraid. This was his version of kindness. She found she couldn't ask for more.

The conversation was finished. Kouen made that clear in his sudden disregard of her presence as he leafed through papers.

Asta excused herself, turning away from the desk to walk to the door.

"Astoria," called Kouen. "Your father's corpse should be here soon. Bengt has already started preparations for his funeral rites."

She halted. She didn't think she heard correctly, but she was sure he called her Astoria.

Slowly, she faced him again, stunned. He didn't even know her name.

"My name is Asta," she corrected, insulted. She didn't bother to stay and listen to whatever else he wanted to stay. She went straight for the door. She didn't expect him to know anything about her, but she expected him to know what her name was. This frustrated her, especially because she had bothered learning about him, albeit briefly, it was obviously more than he did.

Bo joined her halfway to her rooms. She leaned forward to have a good look at her face. "Princess?"

Asta smiled. "Everything is fine."

"Good." Bo nodded. "Can I do anything for you?"

"No. You have done enough. Thank you," said Asta, pausing. "I'm going to my room. Alone."

"Yes, princess." Bo bowed and stayed behind.

Asta made the long trip to the eastern wing to her room. She sank into a seat at the table. She drew her legs up to her chest, shifting inside the cushioned armchair so that she was resting her cheek against the back of it. A single thought ran through her mind, haunting her.

What would become of her now? She was just a bargaining chip with a title.


	6. (02) Ash Field - Pt 3

**ASH FIELD** | BRITA GRAHN

| **i **|

The Åkerman Province boasted acres upon acres of bountiful farmland. For the Åkerman Farms, the calendrical year was divided by harvests and its farmers were viewed as some of the hardest workers in Ione. The province suffered the most under Hákon's tyrannical reign after his splurging left no funds or available channels of trade for them to the seeds farmers cultivated for the people, resulting in a countrywide famine that killed thousands.

The Kou Empire's marriage to Ione provided the Åkerman Province with all the necessary tools to flourish as well as established a new route for wheat and fruit trade between itself and the empire's other conquered lands.

Brita Grahn started work at dawn. Each farmer was allowed three breaks throughout the day, two short and a long one for lunch. She didn't hate her new assignation. She wouldn't have minded if she had ended up fishing for trout in the Nyström Province or working as a servant in the Strand Province for a wealthy merchant family. People thought that because she had been trained to be a lady-in-waiting and had served as the princess' attendant, she would be a little more outraged when Bo decided Asta needed better care. She felt insulted with the way Bo phrased her dismissal, which had been said to mark the clear distinction between the two and exerting her superiority. There were other ways to say the same thing without being ruthless. Bo didn't share the sentiment. Her affront didn't stick.

People didn't understand that while she was assigned to work in the farms, she could easily ask for a different job. The reason she chose the Åkerman Farms was because of their accessibility to Asta. The princess treated her as a friend, as she did with most of the people around her, but Brita was special. Asta needed to have someone she trusted around her. Brita had been that person since she had been assigned to care for her. Her mother had suspected she would die in the eastern tower and she had not wanted to leave her daughter alone.

It was a kind sentiment, but Ingrid should have invested in teaching Asta better than filling her head with silly ideas. She wouldn't be such a handful if she had.

The workday ended at sundown. Brita returned home. She resided in one of the eight villages within the Åkerman Province where everyone's cottages were lined in perfectly uniformed rows and their backyard consisted of either a dirt road or an acre of wheat. Everyone was acquainted. They were welcoming and a jollier bunch than the people in the castle were. The castle's atmosphere was gloomier. The walls were made of black stone and were cold to the touch. The rooms were too big and uninviting. The hallways were long and full of shadows.

Not like her cottage. There was a homey feel to it even though it was less than she was used to.

Brita prepared dinner for after a bath and waited up all night until every torch on the street was snuffed out.

That evening she had been summoned to a dilapidated structure far from the Ionian capital, chosen not for its remote surroundings but for its key location. It sat nestled in an area where it was easily reachable by the ex-members of the Ionian House.

The Ionian House resumed activity a few years after they realized Hákon had used them to sit on the throne, repaying their trust in his word by disbanding their order and throwing the country into chaos.

Brita entered the house after taking a quick look at her surroundings. Once the door was securely shut behind her, she pulled the hood of her cape off her head and she was greeted by the murmur of voices in a room deep inside the antique building.

She followed the sounds in the darkness. Dust rose with every step, the floorboards creaked noisily beneath her weight, alerting the owners of the voices of her presence and prompting them to immediate silence.

A door outlined by the soft illumination emitting from indoors opened, allowing a long bar of light to fall across the floor in front of her. A tanned, robust man with a thick beard stood with his door on the handle, staring directly at her until she came close enough for the light to reveal her identity. He turned to the person inside.

"It's Brita, put your sword away."

Brita took the door from him, allowing him to return to his seat in front of the lone candle atop a crate. He was in the company of a strict-looking woman with narrow eyebrows, dressed in male clothes, that was sheathing her sword. They were the only members present.

The man that answered was Kay Åkerman and the woman Freja Tjäder, both heads of their respective noble families and provinces.

"The princess visited you this morning," said Åkerman. "What did she have to say?"

"She came to whine about her husband," Brita revealed, hoping to get through the basic information to deliver the critical news she learned earlier about the king's death, "but I did learn that the marriage was consummated."

"Separating them will be all the more difficult now," lamented Åkerman, glimpsing at Tjäder, who stood with her arms folded over her chest. "The Kou Empire is exerting more influence within this country, if we continue to allow it, Hákon will have his way."

"I offered the princess a bit of advice," said Brita. "I told her she should try to get along with her husband so that she may remain in his good graces. But there's more—"

"That child has the charm of this room," criticized Tjäder, gesturing to their surroundings. The room was falling apart. "The best course of action is to round our armies and rid the island of every Kou Empire soldier on Ionian soil."

"Prince Kouen alone would be enough to subdue whatever scraps we gather to call an army," said Åkerman, earning a glare from Tjäder. "You seem to forget he's a Dungeon Capturer."

Brita tried to speak, but was interrupted again.

"Nyström and Öman told me they witnessed the departure of several soldiers under the Kou Empire's banner on several fleets," said Tjäder. "They did not seem to be returning to the Kou Empire; rather it looked as though they were heading towards Corrin. That stupid brother of mine must have encountered trouble." She covered her face with her hand as she shook her head. "How could he have gotten mixed up with the Kou Empire? How?"

"I doubt it was a coincidence," said Åkerman.

"Lady Tjäder—"

"We should just kill him," suggested Tjäder. "After that audacious summons he sent in the princess' name, who does he think he is? Let us take advantage of the opportunity and kill him. There. I don't care if he's the king of the universe, I _will _spear him."

"Lady Tjäder!" called Brita forcefully. She quickly realized her mistake when the woman rounded on her.

"Listen to me, you little shit," snapped Tjäder. "We wouldn't be having this fucking dilemma if you had done your job correctly with Johan. We wouldn't be dealing with this if you hadn't let Ingrid coddle that child. Her survival instincts suck. You throw her in Hult's Forest and she'd get lost and die there. She has the charm of a lump of wood. Who are we fooling that that little, bumbling idiot is capable of keeping a man like Ren Kouen under control?" She glared at Åkerman. "Your stupid plan is not working now and it's not going to work later. Our country is as good as lost if we don't fight for it."

Åkerman waved his hands, trying to calm the angry woman. "Your predisposition to violence is very unattractive."

"If you are unwilling to fight for your country, you do not—"

Irritated, Brita shouted, "The king is dead!"

She wouldn't have been able to command their attention long enough it she hadn't yelled the truth.

Tjäder and Åkerman turned away from each other and stared at her in complete disbelief.

"The king was killed in the battle for Corrin," she finished. "I learned from one of the soldiers in the castle."

"That fucking useless bastard!" cursed Tjäder, storming out of the room. "That useless shit! Just when we need him alive, he ups and dies!"

Åkerman chased after the woman, worried she would make a scene. "Freja! Come back!"

Brita followed him, rolling her eyes. These people were annoying.

Growing up, she was trained to be a lady-in-waiting, but that had come after she had been trained to spy on the royal family by the leaders of the Ionian House. She didn't care what she needed to do, so long as she was paid for doing it.

**ASH FIELD** | END


	7. (03) Cinder Crown - Pt 1

**THREE**: Cinder Crown

* * *

**House Tjäder**

The noble lineage of House Tjäder is descendant of Io, the Warrior Queen.

Members of House Tjäder are raised strictly and are trained to serve in the military from the instant they are old enough to enlist. Tjäder nobility grew up believing that the one true way of dying was doing so in the battlefield, an ode to their Warrior Queen, who they revered as a saint.

The head of House Tjäder is in charge of the military province in Ione and oversees several bases around the country that police its denizens. While the Castle Guard, or the King's Army, is a special branch of the military, it is considered a separate entity from the Tjäder Province because they answer only to the leader of the country. Members of the Castle Guard are military trainees handpicked for their promise and are taken to the castle's barracks where they compete their training.

Freja Tjäder is the current head. She inherited the title from Hákon after he married Queen Ingrid. As head of the House, Freja is the Head Commander in the Ionian Army. She serves predominantly within the country, keeping it safe.

The queen and king are the only authority that can command the Ionian Army apart from Freja.

The Tjäder Province is located in the center of Ione. It wraps around the capital, Astoria.

**House Åkerman**

House Åkerman is one of the oldest noble families in Ione. The first bearer of the Åkerman name impressed Io so much in his contribution to the conquest that made Ione hers that she offered him the territory of his choice.

House Åkerman controls all of the farmland in Ione and regulates the amount of crops that are grown on a seasonal basis, as well as how much is distributed throughout the kingdom, the amount that is preserved for the winder season, and the bundles that go to House Öman for trade.

Kay Åkerman is the current head of the Åkerman House.

The Åkerman Province is located northwest from Astoria.

* * *

**xl**: We are doing Houses now. I will probably do two at a time until I run out.

Now, I want to take the time to thank: **Trickster707**, **Loteva**, **Mitsuyuki-hime**, and **EdenMae **for reviewing the previous chapter(s). Also, wow, thank you to everyone that has either favorited/followed this story (or both). It's surprising to have so many new readers. I hope not to disappoint you!


	8. (03) Cinder Crown - Pt 2

**CINDER CROWN** |

{ **i** }

Asta woke up startled and felt a brush of frosty air against her legs. She felt a blanket slide from her body and glimpsed down as it pooled on the floor, its red color deepening in the warm glow of light that the fireplace emitted. She blinked drowsily, re-familiarizing herself with her bedchamber. Her heart was aflutter.

She had dreamt of her mother, who had existed as a ghost in the eastern tower of Io Castle for fifteen years where her memory had been tarnished by vile rumors spread from within the castle walls. The kingdom's perceptions of her mother had been warped by her father's malicious pursuit for the Ionian crown.

She had never dreamt of her mother since she had died. She had spent months trying to commit her to memory after she had passed away. She hadn't been able to fathom the thought of forgetting her, but her determination to keep her had backfired. Bit by bit, like age weathered a marble statue, she had lost her.

Asta lowered her gaze to her legs tucked underneath her body. Her mother had felt real in her dream with sunlight shining in her hair and the dust particles floating around her shimmering like flecks of gold against the morning light. She had been convinced that she would see her mother standing before her with a delicate smile curving her thin lips, but had been disappointed to realize she wasn't there.

She heard her chamber door open as planted her feet on the cold floor. The light clinking of silverware and metal armor drew her gaze back to Carina, who balanced a tray holding an elegant tea set.

"Good, you're up. I was about to move you to the bed."

Carina shakily set the tray on the table. She lifted her eyes from the tea set, relief suffusing her prominent features.

"Morning."

"So, do you want a cup of tea?" asked Carina. "Courtesy of Lady Bo, of course. It's supposed to help you sleep better. She said you were a little fitful…you know, because of what happened earlier."

"Where is Lady Bo?" asked Asta. It surprised her to learn her strict caretaker sent her tea with Carina, who couldn't be trusted with such tasks. She had a history of breaking things.

Carina snorted. "She rounded up her underlings for a sensitivity meeting."

"She doesn't need to do that," she said, alarmed. "I don't want to be treated any differently because I lost my father."

"It was a joke, princess," the guard clarified.

"Oh. I'm sorry."

Carina poured her a cup of tea and slid it towards her. "No, I'm sorry. I was only trying to lighten the mood a bit."

Asta smiled.

"Thank you," she said. "I did…I _do_. I appreciate your effort in thinking up such a clever comment and I apologize that I didn't laugh as I should have."

Carina stared at her oddly. "Drink your tea," she urged, sinking down into a seat. "Want to talk?

"Talk?"

"You don't have to." Carina nervously scratched the back of her head. "I mean, I _am_ just a guard and I'm clearly overstepping my—"

"Don't ever think that way, Carina!" Asta interjected. "You're my friend!" She reached for an empty cup and clumsily poured tea for her guard. The amber liquid sloshed over the edges, a few droplets spilled onto the table. "You should have tea with me."

"You know I don't like tea."

"Just pretend."

"That I can do."

Carina took a cloth from the tray and wiped up the droplets. She accepted the cup Asta had given her, leaving it in front of herself.

Silence spread between them as the crackle of the firewood filled the room with natural sound. With the warm cup in her hands, Asta took a small sip, maintaining her eyes on the rippling liquid. "I dreamt of my mother."

The tiniest smile curved her lips unconsciously at the thought. Mentioning it brought back the image of her mother surrounded by the morning light, appearing to be in good health.

"I dreamt of her in a halo of light," continued Asta fondly. "I saw her so clearly that when I opened my eyes, I thought I might see her." She paused, recalling her disappointment. "I wanted to see her. I wanted to think for a moment that she was alive and that we were in that tower."

Carina's brown eyes were fixed on her face. She stared at her so intently as if she were searching for the right words to say even though Asta was sure there weren't any. If she were in Carina's position, she'd be at a bigger loss.

She wasn't good with words. She wasn't anything like her mother, who despite her misfortune was able to speak words that could move the people around her. Her ascension to the crown had been at fifteen, yet she had handled it with a maturity Asta had been more than aware that she lacked the more she considered her new position. Her mother had sat on the throne when Ione had been peaceful, where her presence had instilled hope in its denizens that no harm would ever fall upon them.

Her mother had emanated that type of energy to the people. The Ionian populace hadn't been terrified when she was crowned. They were confident that she would rule over them and keep their peace. The people trusted her.

Asta couldn't hold a candle to that. She didn't have the upbringing her mother did. She wasn't groomed to be queen. She was raised to become someone's wife.

She had.

She had become Kouen's wife. She had married a prince as her father had always so cruelly reaffirmed. Being his wife was the only thing she had some instruction to follow. Be dutiful and faithful. Be an impeccable reflection of your husband. Give him heirs.

Being Kouen's wife was the only thing she could do for Ione. She wanted to make the best out of a bad situation because being his wife helped Ione. She saw that. She couldn't take that bit of certainty from them. After years of suffering through their country's decline, she didn't have the heart to take that tiny semblance of peace from them.

Asta feared that agreeing to calm the Ionian House from a possible uprising against the Kou Empire would blow up in her face and result in a disastrous war. She needed to decide where her loyalty lay. Was it with her country and the Ionian House fighting to preserve its luster? Or was it with her husband, whom she was tied to for the rest of her life?

Would she make an enemy of her husband to stand up for her country?

Was that the right thing to do?

Her heart was in Ione. Perhaps, that was knowledge enough.

"I wondered what my mother would do in this situation," said Asta, breaking the terse silence with a decision. "She was much younger when she ascended the throne, wasn't she? It must have been difficult for her as well." She placed her teacup on the table, the liquid having grown lukewarm in her hands. "I wish I knew what she would say to me if she was aware of my situation."

"You don't have the luxury to second guess yourself," replied Carina."

"I don't think I can do anything for this country."

"You're not going to get very far comparing yourself with your mother," said Carina matter-of-factly. "Yes, your mother was great when she first ascended the throne, but you should remember that she lost her kingdom and never tried to get it back. That's not something the people fault her—quit looking so disgruntled!"

Asta jolted, startled by Carina's outburst.

"I'm sorry," she said, looking down.

"The people of Ione love you," continued Carina. "Your mother believed in you. We, the people in this castle, don't doubt you can rule this country—sure, you'll make mistakes, but that's what people do. And while you don't have some renowned advisor like your mother did, you can probably make about the same use of Slimy Bengt as your husband has. Take advantage of him, even if he is a self-important ass."

Asta remembered how Brita asked her to stay quiet and not trust anyone. Those words brought a question to mind, one that made her wonder if there was anyone to trust. It was doubt in her mind, doubt that made her question everyone's loyalty to her. It made her paranoid. She wanted to believe that her people would never think about hurting her.

Asta wanted to confine in someone.

"I want to do so much for this country," she started, surprised by her unfaltering tone. She could keep it together. "I wanted things to go back to what they were before my father. We were a peaceful nation, but after tonight, I think I finally opened my eyes. I have been so torn by my mother's and Johan's passing that I never bothered to look at what was happening in Ione. Everything is changing so quickly that it scares me. I don't recognize it anymore. How can I become queen? Can I even become queen?"

Carina leaned back into the cushioned armchair and sighed deeply. She folded her arms over her armored chest.

"Asta," she began, the sound of her name showed her that the young warrior was serious. "It is one thing to have the hopes and the desires to do something—_anything_—or to decide what is right for your kingdom and what is wrong. I know that it must be easy for you to accept what is being presented because you feel that you can't do anything else, but it's another thing to make the decisions yourself. Asta, you have to do more than sit and mull things over until somebody offers you an idea. You have ideas of your own. You know that the people love you. The people understand that they are asking too much of you because you're so young, but we are as desperate as you are. Watching another country seize control where we will become what they want us to become. Your father took our freedom. People are saying that the Kou Empire will do the same. They are afraid of the changes because they don't recognize Ione any more than you do."

Asta wondered if Carina could tell she was nervous. "Carina," she spoke softly. She rose from her seat, her chest tight with emotion. "I don't know how to thank you."

Carina grinned. "I'm sure if we put our heads together that we'll find a way to thank me."

Asta walked around the table and embraced her gratefully before she sprinted out of the room. She heard Carina call after her faintly, but didn't stop to address her.

She turned down the hallway, following it to a connecting corridor that would take her to the castle's western wing. As she ran past the few wandering servants that were completing their duties for the night, Carina's words replayed in her mind in a loop that made her heart race.

Her father's death affected her more than she anticipated. She never considered it was possible for her father to die. He was immortality incarnate to her. She believed he would be around forever instilling fear and doubt in her as he molded her into the perfect piece to use for his plans. His tyrannical reign of Ione would be eternal.

His death stirred up a strange emotion inside of her. It made her wonder if she had mourned the father that he could have been, rather than the one he was. Had she been so optimistic that he would become the father she had always wanted sometime in the future?

Maybe.

He was her father. He was so drunk on power that he was addicted. That addiction kept him from seeing her as anything other than a threat, so he pushed her aside.

Asta didn't understand the words when Bo had spoken them, but she had been right. He was her father and she loved him more than she believed she hated him.

Asta's face was flushed when she came to an abrupt stop in front of the western tower's stone steps.

Carina not only gave her the encouragement, but the reason she needed to face what was to come. She knew she wasn't ready for any of it. She didn't think she was emotionally strong enough for what awaited her, but she didn't have the time to sit back and wait until she was. She would have to treat it like falling down. She would continue getting up, no matter how scraped or shaky her legs were from the pain or the fear of the accident repeating again.

She wanted to believe in her people.

Asta ascended the stairs after catching her breath. The castle's penetrating cold prickled her skin as she took each step with a little more confidence. She paused at the entrance, steading herself.

She knocked against the heavy oaken door and waited. The anticipation fueled her anxiety.

Bengt opened the door. The beady-eyed chamberlain stared upon her freckled face with shock. "My dear princess, I thought you were sleeping."

She looked past Bengt's shoulder and made eye contact with Kouen, who stood beside her father's unorganized desk in the center of the room.

"May I come in?" she asked politely. It amazed her that she hadn't forgotten how to speak like a normal person in his presence.

Kouen nodded. He dropped his eyes to the scatter of papers on the table briefly.

Bengt stepped aside as she walked in. She heard the door shut behind her noisily, making her jolt.

Asta stepped forward timidly. She stared absently at the documents on the table, uncertain of their contents. She assumed they were related to the Ionian House because Bengt was still in the room. She glanced in his direction briefly.

"Do you need something?" asked Kouen, startling her.

"I wanted to talk," she said, not looking up from the table.

"Hm?"

He appeared to be willing to listen to whatever she wanted to say, which shouldn't have been shocking. He was never dismissive with her, but he did feel a little indifferent, like whatever she said wouldn't make a lasting impression.

Ah. His unflinching gaze made her nervous.

"I—I have a request…well, it's a talk about a request," she stammered.

His eyes narrowed. After their last conversation, her desire to talk to him might have sounded suspicious. "Talk."

"I want you to stop."

"Stop?"

Asta faced him directly. Tempting as running away seemed she found that she couldn't bring herself to do that. If she didn't try, she didn't have a right to say that she loved Ione.

"Ione is grateful for the Kou Empire's support, but"—she averted her eyes anxiously, urging herself to stay strong and continue—"I want you to postpone all the new changes that your country has done to mine."

Kouen's thin eyebrows drew together, exasperated with her request. She opened her mouth to elaborate further, but didn't get the opportunity to speak.

"Preposterous, princess! Preposterous!" interjected Bengt, coming into view. "Ione is alive because the Kou Empire salvaged it! You are asking the impossible!"

"You want me to speak to the Ionian House and make sure they yield to the Kou Empire without issue—I will," said Asta quickly, ignoring Bengt. "I will talk to them, but I won't accuse them of treason without proof. They need time to adjust, more than a single year. If you can be patient with Ione, they will accept becoming a part of the Kou Empire in the manner that you wish, but until then, I ask you to postpone these changes."

Kouen said nothing, surprising her that he chose to contemplate her request so thoroughly. Bengt steamed behind her in silence.

"A slow transitioning period allows time for those that oppose to start a rebellion," said Kouen, preparing to refuse her. He spoke calmly, his voice deep and articulate. "The people will use you as their representative. The unnecessary conflict you wish to avoid will sweep your nation and my hand will be forced."

Bengt nodded fervently in her periphery, taking this man's word as the new law.

Asta hesitated, daunted by the same implication that led her to ask for his patience. She didn't want a war to break out over something that could be remedied before it reached an extreme. As she stared at him, at a sudden loss for rational argument, she imagined she was asking too much.

She wavered, struggling to find a worthy answer to his challenge. The possibility of war existed no matter what.

"I won't take Ione," she told him. Letting go completely was like giving up. It left a bitter taste on her tongue and filled her with sadness to say that she would never become the queen that her country wanted. "My father promised this country to the Kou Empire. I do not intend to fight you for it. I won't be the face of a rebellion that will lead to the death of hundreds of my people."

He listened, but she doubted he took her seriously.

"I won't become your enemy," she repeated. "So, please, indulge me." Her voice came out tremulously, no matter how hard she tried to keep it steady. "If you think the Ionian House is a problem, I think I have a way to get through to them…if you would listen."

"Leave us, Bengt," Kouen ordered, not sparing him a glance.

Bengt was scandalized, but bowed his way out of the room. He did not do so quietly.

Kouen took his seat behind the desk. There was a seat available to her left, but she didn't take it. She didn't think she would be able to sit still.

She wasn't sure what else she planned to accomplish. She had an idea, though it was more of a compromise than one.

"You are aware that whatever it is you want to do can result in everything you want to avoid," said Kouen.

She nodded curtly.

"And you would take that risk?"

"Earlier you asked me to speak to the Ionian House to convince them to bend to your country's will," she said. She watched his expression change with interest. She lowered her eyes to the ground, brought her hands to the bottom of her shift, scrunching up the cotton fabric in her fists. "That was a risk, same as this one. You probably know that you can't use me to guarantee anything in this kingdom. The people love me because they have expectations of me. My father's left much to be desired in terms of leadership, so they want someone like my mother on the throne." She paused briefly. "I'm not my mother. I'm not good at anything, so I can't offer the people of Ione any comfort, but they're convinced I can. So, yes, I would take the risk."

"Because you want to prove that the Ionian House is innocent of accusation?"

She nodded.

"That manner of thinking is naïve," he said critically. "Believing that you are surrounded by trustworthy people that would think twice before putting you in harm's way is childish. There is evil in the world, Asta. Not everyone is kind, not everyone is looking out for your best interests. There are people that are selfish and people that are starved for power. You are too sheltered."

That stung. She knew that. Hearing it from him in that bluntly made it real.

But…

She lifted her eyes and released her hold on her shift.

"I want to believe in the good of others."

He held her gaze for several minutes. She grew more nervous than she had been when she first entered.

He expelled a breath and broke eye contact.

"What do you have in mind?" he asked, leaning off to the side of the chair, propping his elbow on the wooden arm.

Excitement suffused her, loosening the tension in her muscles almost immediately. It felt like exhaling for the first time since she walked up the tower's spiral steps. She sank into the seat beside her and relaxed.

"Ione has always been kind to me," she started, noting his disdain in the statement. After how he criticized her naivety, she expected no less. "This might not at all be as successful as it seems in my head, but if you are against slowing the changes in Ione, I am willing to compromise."

He arched an eyebrow, interest piqued. "Compromise?"

"W-We need to make them believe this ma-marriage was a mutual decision between us, founded completely by lo-lo-love," she mumbled. She shut her eyes tightly, hoping he heard everything.

"Speak up, Asta."

"We have to make everyone believe our marriage is real," she repeated hurriedly, face burning with embarrassment.

"The marriage is real," he told her.

"O-Our marriage is a contract," she corrected, fidgeting. "Ione became yours in exchange." She didn't understand her benefit yet. She didn't think there was one. Kouen gained new territory for his father, the emperor, and a new army for himself. What did she expect? This was as good as it was going to get when it came to reigning over Ione. She wouldn't be the crown; she would be its support.

He nodded slightly.

"If we are seen together, acting as real partners, the Ionian House and Ione itself might not feel as inclined to start any—"

"Or they might perceive your idea as my brainwashing you," he said calmly. "Would that not make you someone in need of rescue?"

She deflated. "I didn't consider that possibility."

"The Kou Empire will face trouble in your country and I expect the love people have for you, whether it is out of expectation or not, is enough to convince them otherwise," said Kouen. "You can do nothing but discourage attempts against the Kou Empire. You are valuable in that respect."

"But how does that benefit me? I am either to be used by you or be used by my country according to you." Asta rose stubbornly. "How does this benefit Ione? The threat of war hovers over it. This isn't the time to fight amongst ourselves when the greater portion of the army is conquering the rest of the Byzen Cluster under the Kou Empire's banner. We need to be united. If feigning romance won't do us any good, we should work together instead of apart. Whether you like it or not, I am going to stand beside you and I am going to show you that there is more goodness in the people of Ione than you give them credit and that the Ionian House exists to help, not start wars."

She couldn't read his expression as she took a deep breath. "I apologize for disturbing your evening," she said softly. "I'm going to bed," she informed him, taking a step back to turn. He was unreadable. "Good night."

Asta walked to the door quickly, stealing a glance of her husband before stepping out and swore she saw the hint of a smile. She appreciated that he listened. Even though the conversation had not gone the way she would have liked, he brought up several points that she needed to think about thoroughly. Her ideas were flawed, her way of thinking was naïve, but she found her voice in that short session. She spoke to him clearly and expressed her concerns. She offered her point of view instead of running away.

She did something.

Her heart fluttered in her chest. All of her anxiety was settling back in place.

Asta descended the stairs slowly, working on calming her trembling body.

"You are quite lovely, princess."

She startled, watching Bengt come into sight. The balding man looked up at her from the bottom of the staircase with narrowed eyes.

"You should rest, Bengt," she suggested, continuing down the stairs. "I know you have been hard at work since morning."

Bengt blocked her path as she reached the final steps and smiled widely. "I can see how that would be in your best interest," he said pointedly. He moved forward, surprising her when he reached out to take her arm in a vise-like grip. "You have no place here, princess."

"What?"

"You have one job, princess, and that is to be that man's wife and give him children," said Bengt, rather forcefully. "You have no business meddling in kingdom affairs now that your husband is present. Let him handle everything and you might live long enough to reap the benefits of a comfortable life as the wife of a Kou Empire prince."

Asta bristled. "Release me."

Bengt glared at her, tightening his grip. He would throw her to the ground to prove his point. It shocked her to hear him insult her so openly, as he never had before. He supported her father when he deposed her mother and followed him obediently, agreeing to all his claims that women were weak and unfit rulers. There were cutting remarks before, but never anything like this. The chamberlain never put his hands on her or made her feel as though she was about to hit the ground.

She tried to shove his hand from her arm, but his painful grip tightened. "Bengt," she whispered harshly. She didn't want to draw unnecessary attention. She didn't want anyone to see her in distress and save her. Not in front of Bengt. It would only be proving his point. "You're hurting me. Please, let me go."

"Oh," he said, looking down at his hand. His grip loosened. "I didn't even notice. My apologies, princess."

Asta's relief ended quickly when Bengt took a hold of her arm again and jerked her forward harshly, causing her fall. She yelped and watched the hard ground greet her quickly.

She hit the ground hard on her shoulder. Although the force was not enough to dislocate it, it would be bruised and aching for days. Tears sprung into her eyes as she pushed against the cold floor to stand when she felt a cold breeze against her legs. She covered her exposed limbs as Bengt began to circle her, chuckling.

"You are so clumsy, princess," he cooed.

She heard the heavy door above the staircase open, followed by footsteps, and started to panic.

Asta forced her body back up on her feet as Bengt swarmed her, pretending to assist her. She jerked away from him, her entire being trembling in fear of more pain. Kouen entered in her periphery and her heart sank to her stomach.

"Asta," he called, though he did not sound worried.

She kept her red eyes firmly on the ground when Bengt attempted to take her arm. "Princess, you must get that looked at by the castle's physician," he said, feigning concern.

His vile hand touched her tender arm and she lashed out, smacking it away with a force that shocked him. "Don't touch me!"

He stared at her affronted by her outburst and turned his astonished expression to Kouen, making sure that he saw it too.

Her voice broke. She was hurt. "D-Don't come near me!"

Her shoulder and hip throbbed as she scurried back to her room limping. She didn't want to cry.

"What happened?" she heard Kouen asked.

"She fell from the stairs. I tried to help, but she's just so difficult."

Carina waited in her bedchamber. She rose from her seat upon seeing her, eyeing her disheveled form suspiciously.

"Princess? Did something happen?

"I talking things over with the prince," Asta said hurriedly. "I feel better now, but it's gotten so late. I'm going straight to sleep." She climbed onto her bed, moving underneath the coverlet. "Please rest, Carina."

"Okay, good night."

Once Carina was gone, Asta willed her throbbing body to move into a comfortable position. She pushed the blankets off to pull her shift up to assess the damage of her fall. Her skin was a violent red and her muscles screamed in agony. She ached everywhere.

She covered herself up again, wiping her tears on the coverlet.

She prayed for tomorrow to be a better day.

{ **ii** }

Asta's body ached from last night's violent affair when Hua woke her that morning. Moving slightly hurt the most, so she tried to do as little as she could while she listened to her attendants shuffling through her room obeying Bo's orders to tidy up, bring up breakfast, and prepare a warm bath.

Morning arrived with a chill that filtered in through the partially open windows. The breezes that slipped in through the apertures were frosty and moved the heavy drapes shallowly.

Asta sat up, dropping her feet to the ground. She contemplated explanations for the hideous purple-green bruises that snaked around her shoulder to her upper arm and ran down the length of her body to her hip and leg where the spread was a little more spaced.

She looked at the painful contusions. They hurt as badly as they appeared.

Fu presented her with a small white cup atop a saucer. "Your tea, princess."

"Thank you."

Asta unconsciously tugged the sleeve of her shift over her shoulder and took the cup with a smile. She brought it closer to her, holding it steady in her shaky hands. The heat rising from the porcelain warmed her face.

She stared into the green liquid, the tea leaves were settled neatly at the bottom of the cup. Its fragrant scent comforted her, though she never quite appreciated the taste of green tea. She pretended to take sips as her attendants walked in and out of her bedchamber.

"_YOU USELESS SCUM!_"

The resulting '_thwack_' that preceded a pained scream filled the room with sudden silence.

Asta left the bed, leaving her tea on the table, and headed for the window. She recognized the voice, but she wanted to be sure that it belonged to the person that came to mind after hearing it. She peered through the aperture in the window overlooking the road that wound between the hills surrounding Io Castle. She spotted a woman mounted on a horse with a riding crop held firmly in her left hand. A half-naked slave was crumpled on the ground shaking violently as he held a hand to his mouth; blood seeped through his fingers and spilled into the dirt.

The woman and her slave were in the presence of a group of soldiers in their metal plated armor and another pair of thralls holding a heavy trunk between them.

It was as she feared, her aunt was visiting the castle.

Asta ran out the door, ramming straight into one of her guards. She would have fallen had the guardsman not latched onto her arms and kept her on her feet.

"Asta!" came Bo's delayed exclamation. The caretaker sprung out of the room so quickly that she forgot her impeccable manners. "P-Princess!"

Vilhelm pulled her forward and released her arms. The bruises on her arms ached after his firm grasp released them, but she ignored the pain.

"I suppose you felt that evil presence just now," Vilhelm commented. "Slimy Bengt went out to greet Lady Tjäder."

"Why?" asked Asta, horrified.

"What do you mean why? She's your relative!"

"But we're not even close!"

"Yes, but you share blood," Vilhelm argued. "You have to meet her." He gestured her down the hall. "Slimy Bengt is going to keep her at bay. So go find your husband and try to look presentable. You know she doesn't like to be kept waiting."

Bo eyed Vilhelm suspiciously. "Guard Vilhelm?"

"Lady Tjäder has arrived," Vilhelm offered in explanation.

"Uninvited," added Asta.

"Lady Tjäder? Of the Ionian House? That Lady Tjäder?" asked Bo, assessing the situation with a shocked expression. "Are you certain?"

Vilhelm nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

"Where is Kouen?" asked Asta.

"Your mother's library," answered Bo strangely. Her attention went to Asta immediately, scanning her disapprovingly. "We should have you readied. You can't go down looking like that. Ah, but we don't have the time to bathe you—well, maybe just a quick scrub."

"We don't have the time. She doesn't like to be kept waiting," started Asta, walking backward into the direction of her mother's library. She planned to warn Kouen about her aunt's surprise visit. She had questions too. "Have a robe waiting for me downstairs. We can't keep my aunt waiting forever." She turned to Vilhelm, who straightened as he awaited orders. "Have all the guards come upstairs."

"What? Princess?" called Bo, confused. "Where are you going?"

"Thank you, princess." Vilhelm bowed. He brought two fingers to his mouth and whistled loudly, drawing the nearest guards to him. "Everyone take twenty, spread the word. Has anyone seen Carina?"

"Guard Vilhelm! What do you think you are doing?" demanded Bo. "And princess!"

"My aunt will only bully them!" explained Asta, turning briefly. "They do a good job, so let them play upstairs until she leaves!"

"This is inappropriate!" Bo attempted to chase her, but Asta ran off. "Princess! It is unladylike to run!"

Her mother's library was located deep inside the castle's eastern wing, the last door at the end of a long corridor.

Asta found Joa lounging in front of the library's door. She hoisted him into her arms and entered unannounced, bracing herself for a wave of familiarity. Kouen was on the upper level of her mother's library where she had housed all her private projects and important documents in diamond-shaped shelves. The majority of bookshelves were aligned around all the walls in her direct surroundings.

Kouen looked up from the table upstairs and turned his attention to her.

"I—I'm sorry about the intrusion," she announced, inclining her head apologetically. She was a little out of breath after running the entire way there, but surprised herself by keeping it together. She hesitated when she first approached the stairs, but walked up them to stand on the same level as him. He followed her every move. "My aunt is here."

"Lady Tjäder?"

She nodded. His knowledge of her aunt's existence amazed her after her had disastrously called her Astoria last night. She had not expected him to know much about her after that mishap.

"Has my father's death become public?" she asked, finding no other reason to explain her visit.

"No," he said, "but there is a possibility that news of it has leaked."

"But I didn't tell anyone," said Asta. His eyes narrowed. "I trust everyone in my guard, Lady Bo and my attendants as well. They wouldn't spread such sensitive information."

"I did not accuse you," he pointed out.

"Oh. Sorry." Asta turned away. Her gaze skimmed the surface of the table to find Kouen surveying a map her mother had been drawing before her death. She had an idea. "What if she wants to formally greet you?

"Uninvited?"

"Lady Tjäder isn't very conventional."

Kouen folded the map neatly, leaving it atop the table. "Finish dressing and find me downstairs."

He walked past her. She pursued him down the stairs, keeping up with his longer strides. She pulled the orange tabby against her chest.

"Lady Tjäder hates to be left waiting," she told him.

He glanced at her and let her follow in silence.

They encountered a servant that redirected them to the Great Hall, informing Kouen that Bengt was keeping Freja busy in the foyer. They entered the grand room through a side entrance near the throne where Kouen took his seat.

Asta went to stand to his right, more aware of the wrinkled cotton shift that hung off her body loosely and of her bare feet. Joa's furry body kept her warm enough to stand the morning chill that filtered into the castle.

Bengt escorted Freja Tjäder and her three slaves into the Great Hall. Asta looked at the two slaves carrying the heavy chest between them in strained silence possessed near-identical features and dark skin. Their arms were bulging with veins and shaking from the effort. Behind them, the third slave with matted brown hair had blood drying down the front of his tanned chest. He had a deep cut across his lips and it continued to bleed.

She couldn't stand looking at the three bite back their pain.

Freja Tjäder, her father's younger sister, was a tall, lanky woman with dark blond hair who loved the tailoring of men's clothing.

"Princess Asta, Prince Kouen," started Freja, bowing with one hand crossed over her torso, resting flat against her chest, and the other at her back. "Excuse the sudden visit—"

Asta stepped off the dais, disrupting her aunt's apology, and walked past Freja in the same instant Bo entered with Hua and Fu, the former carrying a robe folded over her arms. Every one of her steps was monitored with mixed emotion.

She approached the slaves, stopping before them. The three directed their eyes to the floor, careful not to look at her bare feet either.

Asta pulled Joa's weight onto a single arm and placed her free hand atop the heavy trunk's surface, pushing it down gently.

The twins complied with her silent request and set the heavy weight on the stone floor, lowering their heads further in shame.

"Please take my cat to be fed," said Asta, handing Joa to one of the slaves. She looked to his twin. "Accompany him. One of my attendants will show you the way to the kitchens."

The two took several steps back with their bodies inclined into a bow before turning to exit the Great Hall. Asta saw her eight other attendants on the second floor, watching the scene unfold from the open-roofed hall. She signaled to them and met one of the girls at the door where the twin slaves waited.

"Make sure they have something to eat if they haven't already."

"Yes, princess."

"Thank you."

Asta approached the third slave with a friendly smile.

"Fu," she called.

"Yes?"

"Escort this young man to the physician," said Asta. "See to that he isn't hurt too badly."

The thrall tensed. The fear was evident in his eyes.

"Once the physician is done with him, take him to be cleaned, and then the kitchens."

"Yes, princess." Fu came up beside the slave and gestured to the entrance. "This way, please."

Once Fu and the last slave exited, the Great Hall's heavy doors shut. The entire room was silent. She sensed her aunt's and Bengt's glares intensify as Hua stepped up beside her.

Bo turned away from her, refusing to meet her gaze.

Hua helped her into a black robe embroidered in white. Asta stood still as Hua brought the collar up and folded the opened robe neatly before tying it with a sash. She thanked her and returned to stand beside her husband.

She smiled at Freja.

"I apologize for interrupting you," said Asta politely. "I imagined your servants—"

"Slaves," corrected Freja.

"I believe they are entitled to the same rights as your soldiers," she finished. "They did travel here on foot."

"You are very warm, princess."

"I was only being polite."

"How quaint."

Asta didn't know much about Freja Tjäder apart from the fact that they were relatives, only that she was extremely strict, serious, and that she hated her father deeply.

Asta stole a glance at Kouen, who directed her attention forward with a small gesture.

"Why are you here, Lady Tjäder?" asked Kouen. "Has news of the king's death reached you?"

Freja's reaction was exaggerated. "What? My brother—"

"Died, yes," Kouen finished.

Freja took a shuddering breath. "No, I had come for a different reason, but this—this is quite serious," she said, her eyes met Asta's. They were the same shade of blue as hers and her father's. "Is this the reason you summoned the Ionian House?"

Asta nodded, keeping her gaze steady on her aunt's expression. Her eyes were glassy, as if she were about to burst into tears. "I wanted to speak to the members of the Ionian House about this matter privately," she explained. "Chamberlain Bengt is making plans for his funerary rites."

"I have hired the best goldsmiths to craft many gifts, so that he may be prepared for the afterlife," said Bengt. "His new clothes are nearly done."

"How did he die?" asked Freja.

She didn't sound sincere to Asta. The Freja Tjäder she knew wasn't as emotive as this woman presented herself to be. She didn't want to make any accusations, but her display made her uncomfortable. She reminded herself that she didn't know how others would react to her father's death, especially Freja. She was his sister. She probably felt the loss deeply, as Asta had, surprisingly.

"He received a wound to the head," said Kouen.

"It killed him immediately," added Bengt with exaggerated sadness. "He died in battle."

"Why hasn't this news been released?" demanded Freja. "The people have a right to know that their sovereign is dead."

Kouen's silence answered her question.

"What does this mean for Ione?" asked Freja.

"That is to be discussed with the rest of the Ionian House," said Kouen.

"We must wait for the king's body to arrive as well," reminded Bengt. "Then, we will go through the rites."

"You have the support of House Tjäder, Chamberlain Bengt," swore Freja. "Whatever it is that you need, ask it of us and we will deliver. We have priceless antiquities that would suit the king's funeral."

"We would appreciate that." Bengt bowed in approval. He planned to make the funeral as lavish as possible. She wouldn't be surprised if there was a mass sacrifice to honor him in death.

Freja and Asta exchanged condolences.

There was a lull in the atmosphere, but Asta tried to keep it from expanding into a horribly awkward moment. She stepped off the dais once more and went to stand in front of her aunt.

"Will you be staying long? I haven't had breakfast yet. You can stay and join me."

Freja snapped out of her trance-like state. "No, I had something else in mind," she said clearly. "I realized that I never came to introduce myself formally, Prince Kouen. I came to impart a token of friendship." Without her thralls to do the job for her, she went to the trunk and propped it open. From within the shadowed case, she brought out a tall bottle with a narrow neck made of red glass. "A welcoming gift to you, Prince Kouen, from House Tjäder."

Kouen rose from his seat and met Freja halfway, accepting the gift with an impassive look on his face. Asta curiously walked to his side. She stood on her tiptoes to stare at the grossly expensive gift. Noticing her, he offered it to her. With a hesitant glance at him, she requested silent permission to take it from his hands. He responded with a curt nod.

Asta took its slight weight into her hands, their fingers brushed in the exchange, and she admired the sleek, red glass and the dark liquid sloshing inside it. She recognized the brand. It came from one of the most famous vineyards in the world. Importing it was costly and production of it was rare, only a few bottles showed up in a few choice markets and were so expensive that purchasing was impossible for anyone beneath an aristocratic title.

"What a thoughtful gift, Lady Tjäder," said Asta. She smiled at the chamberlain. "Bengt, you should take this to the kitchen."

Bengt stared at her incredulously with no intention to move, a strange smile shaped his lips. He did not think she meant that as an actual order, but a joke. He only dealt with her orders when her father had left her in charge of overseeing kingdom affairs, but even then, he had not let her do much. He had everyone fooled into believing she had been taking good care of her father's crown, but he had used her for her signature and the royal seal that had been left in her possession.

"Bengt."

Kouen's stern tone made the reluctant chamberlain retrieve the bottle from her outstretched hand. He begrudgingly made his way towards the Great Hall's entrance, muttering loud enough to make his frustrations known.

"Thank you, Bengt," she said in singsong, waving him off when he glared at her over his shoulder.

"Prince Kouen, might I borrow your princess for the afternoon?" asked Freja, drawing Asta's attention to her.

She looked to Kouen, hoping he would let her go. She needed something to do to distract her long enough for her to organize her thoughts, so that she could think up ideas to keep Ione from become a battlefield.

"She is her own person, you can ask her," answered Kouen.

She smiled, turning to Freja, who chuckled.

"Of course, Asta," she started, directing her eyes to her, "come hunt with me. Werner has told me that you are quite skilled with a bow."

"Commander Werner likes to exaggerate," said Asta. "We'll be lucky if I can catch a rabbit." She turned to Kouen, who looked at her. "You should accompany us."

"I don't enjoy hunting," he replied, turning to leave. "Excuse me."

She frowned. He agreed to go hunting with her before and now claimed he didn't like it. He could have said no. She wouldn't have been that offended.

Freja inclined her head politely and raised it after her exited the Great Hall. Bo and her remaining ten attendants awaited orders.

"I'll go hunting with you," Asta told her.

Her aunt being one of the more influential leaders of the Ionian House, Asta knew she could benefit from an outing with her. She thought she might discover something that might make her husband believe that the Ionian House wasn't plotting against him.

"I look forward to your company, princess."

"Would you like to stay for breakfast?" Asta offered. "Maybe tea? I would like to give your servants—"

"Thralls, princess," corrected Freja. "Those men are slaves. And I would like to add that I was none too pleased with your behavior concerning them. They are aware of their place, but it seems you are not. I would like it if you do not interpose yourself in how I choose to handle my property."

Bo shot Asta a warning gaze.

"I apologize for my rudeness," said Asta. It took all of her willpower to stop herself from saying something that would insult her. "It will not happen again, I promise you."

"I have an errand to run," Freja informed. "I will return for you in the afternoon. Have your best horse saddled."

Asta bade her aunt a safe trip and watched her depart.

"I do not like that woman," Bo announced, approaching Asta after the door had slammed shut.

"Manners, Lady Bo," said Asta, biting back a smile.

"Not now, princess, that woman is insufferable," ranted Bo. "A bottle of wine? Who does she think Prince Kouen is? She brought a bottle of wine? To welcome him? Princess, you must see the evil in her ways."

"I am seeing the evil in yours quite clearly if you are basing your opinion on a gift," said Asta, amused. "That was an expensive bottle of wine."

"But wine, princess! Wine!" Bo repeated, scandalized. "Promise me that you will never be such a horrid guest!"

"Never, I have you for that reason," said Asta, pleasing the older woman.

"Yes, you are absolutely correct, you do have me."

"Now, I was thinking about bringing home a boar if we are fortunate to run by one during our hunt—"

"What unladylike sport hunting is!" interrupted Bo. "You should not be out there on a horse waving around a bow!"

"You don't wave a bow around, Lady Bo. You use it to shoot arrows. I can teach you how to use it." Asta grew excited. "Oh, we should try it now!"

"Absolutely not! You haven't had breakfast and you haven't been bathed! The water has probably grown cold, too!" Bo clapped her hands. "Girls! Warm the bathwater!"

Her attendants scurried away to comply with Bo's order while she and her caretaker made their way back to her bedchamber.

Asta realized as she walked at Bo's side that she would have to explain the new bruises on her body.

"I fell down actual stairs last night," she revealed, reminding her of the lie she told Kouen.

Bo halted abruptly. "What?

"It was only a few steps."

"You should be more careful with yourself, princess." Bo's reaction wasn't what she expected it to be. She wasn't angry, not in the least. "I don't recall you being so clumsy."

"I am much better on a horse."

Bo grimaced.

Her caretaker's reaction to the bruise on her shoulder did not disappoint Asta. Bo was determined to expose the truth behind its acquirement, convinced it had not come from a fall down three steps like she explained, but Asta diverted her attention, successfully avoiding the conversation.

Bo probably never noticed when she started giving her a lesson in the art of sewing until Asta informed her that she had finished her breakfast.

Asta ran off to prepare for the afternoon hunt. She dressed appropriately for the outing and braided her hair down her back. She searched several storage rooms until she found her hunting bow and a quiver of arrows, items that Bo had personally seen to hiding.

She waited impatiently until her aunt arrived to the castle's gates with her usual entourage of soldiers. Elis handed her the reins to her saddled horse after she joined her aunt.

Asta mounted her horse swiftly. The bruises made their presence known with the suddenness of her movements, but she kept the pain from showing on her face. She guided her mare onto a gentle trot, though it proved as painful as every other alternative, and followed her aunt into the adjacent forest that made up the Hult Province.

Freja beckoned her to ride alongside her. "How are you?"

Confused about the meaning behind the inquiry, Asta answered with a polite, "I'm well, thank you for asking."

"No, girl, I meant how are you after Hákon's passing?"

She looked at her hands clutching the reins of her mare briefly. "I suppose it feels a little surreal."

"Surreal?"

"I never imagined my father would die."

"No man is immortal," said Freja, pausing. "Are you coping well?"

"I welcome any distractions to the pain," answered Asta. "Thank you for asking me to join you this afternoon."

"I am happy to help."

Her aunt was a rigid woman, straight as an arrow even seated atop her stallion.

"It must have been difficult for you to learn of your brother's death," Asta began. "I am sorry it could not have been in the intended setting."

"Excuse my indifference to the matter, but I disliked my brother," Freja admitted. "You might disapprove of my feelings, perhaps, you believe it's wrong to hate a member of one's own family, but Hákon was both a terrible brother and king."

Asta listened quietly. She didn't want to express herself in a way that could be used against her, especially when she was surrounded by soldiers she was not acquainted with personally.

"It is ill to speak of the dead, I know," said Freja, casting a look in her direction.

"No," answered Asta quietly, "I was only thinking that everyone is entitled to their opinion."

"I will pay my respects at his _lavish_ funeral, do not doubt it."

The way she said the word '_lavish_' bothered her. However, the funeral would be extravagant because he was king. He deserved no less and Bengt was going out of his way to see to that his funeral rites were perfection incarnate, fitting of the fortunate life he led.

"Bengt seems to be doing an adequate job with the preparations," said Freja. "Should I be looking forward to a follow-up invitation to a banquet?"

"You should ask Bengt," replied Asta. "I am not involved in any of it."

"Why?" asked Freja sharply. "The man was your father. You loved him. You should be more involved with his funerary rites."

"I will be in attendance, same as you, Lady Tjäder."

"I have seen girls more broken up over a dead pet, princess, do correct me if I'm wrong, but I find your demeanor a bit cold in regards to your father."

"I am mourning his loss at my pace. As I said before, the news has been quite surreal to me." Asta loosened her hold on her horse's reins. "I would have to see him. I think I would need to see him."

Freja scoffed. "That chamberlain has employed the best smiths in the country to make enough grave goods fit for a king: gold chains and crowns, swords and spears, armor made entirely of gold. He has Anders designing and constructing a clinker-built ship. What did your mother have? The only curtesy he spared her was the ornate karv ship he commissioned the day she had gone insane. What other customs were fulfilled? She had been stripped of her jewelry early on that she had none to accompany her into the afterlife and she was dressed in her wedding gown. Her wedding gown?"

"We were not in a stable—"

"Your father had already sold you to the Kou Empire," Freja interrupted. "Your father was quite content with the _support _he had been provided."

Satisfied with her last statement, Freja dropped the conversation in its entirety.

Asta had not. Her mind refused to drop it. She was too concerned about her aunt's observation of her cold disposition. She didn't feel as though she was acting cold towards her father's death. She was dealing with it appropriately. She was saddened by the thought that their relationship would never be remedied with time, but tried not to let that bother her because it couldn't be helped. There was an added uncertainty attached to that as well, whether he had lived or not, whatever bond she had longed for would never exist between them.

Her father would never have a chance to realize his mistakes. He would never be a father to her. He would never apologize for driving her mother to madness, for killing Johan, or for arranging her marriage.

Distracted by the thoughts in her mind, all of Asta's shots missed their intended targets and fed into the growing frustration that bloomed upon the first arrow she set forth against speeding rabbit. Freja shot it down with her spear, looking to her with a proud smile.

From that point onward, Asta felt humiliated by her failures, particularly because their surrounding audience started to whisper taunts to distract her, making a game out of her blunders to entertain themselves. Freja allowed their ridicule, branding it camaraderie and assuring her that they only laughed at her because they accepted her into their fold.

Asta's mind was muddled, though she tried persistently to clear her head dozens of times nothing seemed to work. Despite it, a new string of ideas began to flow into her head, all of them pertaining to her father's funerary rites.

They were a wasteful expense for someone like him. Maybe it was terrible that she thought this way, but he hadn't bat an eyelash when it had come to her mother's funeral. In fact, he hadn't been present.

Asta had had the flowers she and Brita had picked that morning and a few other goods made out of copper instead of the customary metal or gold placed inside her ship. She hadn't been made new clothes for the occasion because her father had rushed the process. Her mother had been laid upon the ship in her wedding dress because it had been her nicest gown. Asta had accepted the modesty of her mother's funeral because she had been aware of the financial situation, but she had learned shortly after that her father had been keeping a mountain of gold hidden. They had been secret funds he had acquired from the Kou Empire. There would have been enough to give her the proper funeral, but he had not cared to part with it.

Why should he receive his expensive funeral? He drove the country to the ground.

The truth was that nobody owed it to him. She certainly didn't and she would take whatever stigma came with her rejection of the custom to see that her father didn't get away with the rites expected of his rank, but what he deserved.

Their small hunting group halted in the center of a wide road surrounded by the vast greenery of the Hult Province. A cold wind rustled through the branches and filled their ears with sound.

"We will rest for a moment," announced Freja, dismounting. "The spring is near, my horse needs water."

The thrall that accompanied her, the same she had hit with her riding crop earlier, took her horse's reins from her and guided it west towards the spring.

Asta climbed off her horse, starting to follow her aunt's slave to the spring.

"Princess?"

She stopped, turning as her aunt crossed the short distance between them. Her shadowing soldiers stayed close to a cluster of trees, gathering to eat.

"Tell me, Asta, how has your husband been treating you?" she asked.

"Good," said Asta.

"Has he frequented your bed every night since his arrival?"

She found that to be an odd question coming from her aunt, with whom she was barely acquainted. There wasn't a pause before her response, despite the strangeness of the inquiry, and lied that he had.

"I hope to be with child before he departs," she added, echoing Bo's tired plans.

Freja arched a curious eyebrow, taking a firm step forward. Her presence was suddenly quite overbearing. "Let me offer you some advice, princess," she began. "If you want to keep any power in this country, you had better hope that you are not carrying his child."

"I must take the Kou Empire into consideration as well as Ione," said Asta, standing firm by the character Bo wanted her to be. "He is the First Prince and I—"

"Let no one tell you that your only purpose in life is to bear your husband's heirs," Freja told her, raising her finger to her face. "Ione was founded by powerful women. You have the blood of Io running through your veins. Do not let it go to waste. You can be more than what the people around you have shown you."

Freja left her with the finality of her tone, joining her soldiers.

Asta took her horse to the spring, finding herself a little unsettled and more confused than she anticipated. It felt as though she was trying, with great difficulty, to advance forward only to see that she was not moving at all.

"I can take her."

Asta noticed the thrall a few feet away from her after she made it to the small pool of water. She gently brushed the horse's mane with her fingers. "It's okay, I have her," she said gently, smiling at him. "How is your mouth?"

The man appeared to be around Vilhelm's age. He was tanned with short, brown hair. The strength he possessed in his upper body was attributed to the hard labor required of his position, though his muscles weren't quite as defined.

He hesitantly brushed Freja's horse. "It is nothing, your highness."

"Did the physician give you something for it?"

"O-Only an ointment…f-for the pain."

Asta led her mare forward and the strong animal bent its neck forward to drink from the spring. She glimpsed at the slave, who kept busy.

"Would you like some fruit?"

He visibly winced, black eyes risking a glance. "N-No, th-thank you, your highness."

She would have liked to describe the slave as a timid man, but he was more frightened of what punishment his behavior would merit. With a strict master like Freja Tjäder, she suspected that anything he did could be considered an affront.

"Princess!" called Freja. The sound of her boots crunching through the forest floor drew near. She heard the voices of several others accompanying hers.

The thrall hurriedly finished brushing Freja's horse and ensured the straps of its saddle were properly secured when the noble woman appeared with three of her soldiers at her back. She spared her slave a scathing glance and met Asta with a tight smile.

"Shall we ride?"

Asta nodded. "Yes."

Freja took her horse from her thrall, who hurried after her once she mounted. Asta joined her on the long road.

They rode until they reached a quieter area in the forest, dismounted, and traversed the area quietly on foot in search of game. Freja took the lead, following a deer's trail, but it took them nowhere. Freja caught more rabbits and dumped them into the arms of one of her soldiers, who proceeded to leave them in the care of her slave.

"I suppose we can have rabbit stew," she stated, wiping her brow of droplets of sweat. "Agda swore there were wild boar and deer running amok. Claimed a few villagers complained of hogs raiding their food storages."

The sun began to set and the sky transitioned slowly from blue to orange.

Asta spent her time observing her surroundings, searching the floor for other imprints on the ground and for signs of other animals. Freja made her too nervous to partake in the sport. She kept missing and the constant ridicule the soldiers gave her worsened her concentration, so she avoided trying again.

"I should be returning you to your castle," Freja said, securing her bag to her horse. A smile spread across her lips. "I suppose you were right, Werner did exaggerate your talent."

"There is a lot of rooting along this path," Asta responded, gesturing down the road from which they had emerged. She was certain she spotted fresh tracks through a pair of trees they passed. "If we left the path, we would have encountered a wild boar. There are markings on the pines and a wallow in a clearing up ahead."

"Well, Werner should have congratulated your ability to track hogs," she said, irritated. "Perhaps, next time, should you feel inclined to speak, you can point out these tracks so that we may measure your new talent."

Asta inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. A bud of annoyance bloomed in her. She mounted her horse and waited for her aunt to get on her own.

The two traveled in silence surrounded by her soldiers. Once Asta was within the castle's grounds, she entrusted her horse to Elis as Freja eyed the surrounding area.

"The castle lacks protection. Have you enough soldiers? Should I send more?"

Asta had enough sense to refuse her. "There is enough military power within the castle."

Io Castle had its own small army, all members were elites drawn from the Ionian army to be trained privately in the castle's barracks.

"But there is no presence," Freja repeated. "Anyone could mount an attack against the castle and take it."

"I promise you that there are plenty of soldiers within my castle, Lady Tjäder," Asta said sternly, feeling the irritation in her start to bubble. She withheld giving it any attention the entire time she spent on that failed hunting trip, but it was too much to push down now. "Let anyone that tries to challenge the might of my army see that they are a great presence."

Freja huffed. She departed with her guards riding fast behind her and her thrall followed their trail on foot.

"Did you have a nice hunt, princess?" asked Elis politely. "What did you bring back?"

"Sadly, my hunt didn't go as well as my aunt's." Asta took her equipment from the horse's back.

"That's unfortunate. You shall have better luck next time, princess."

Asta nodded. There wouldn't be a next time. Not with her aunt.

She walked back to the castle, completely sore from riding and walking. She ignored the pain radiating from her body, continuing further into her home until she reached the eastern wing where she encountered Vilhelm and Carina sharing a drink.

"Want a drink?" asked Vilhelm, offering his cup. "It's ale."

She took it and gulped down the rest of its contents, mostly out of thirst, surprising the siblings. It tasted a little bitter, but she thought there were traces of berries in it that gave it a nice balance of flavors.

"What did Lady Tjäder do?" asked Carina, taking Vilhelm's cup from her to fill it with more ale.

"She was horrid! It was like every time she spoke to me she was trying to pick a fight! It was very aggravating!" She internalized so many of her emotions during that trip that it felt good to release them. "I wanted to push her off her horse when she saw me to the stables!"

Vilhelm snorted.

"That is what Lady Tjäder does," said Carina, returning her cup of ale. "She is always searching for ways to get under your skin."

"You can always ignore her," suggested Vilhelm. "It's what we all do."

"I can't ignore her, as you mentioned before, she's my relative." Despite the obvious jabs Freja took at her, she did make several relevant points regarding her position and her father's funeral. She wouldn't say the trip was completely wasted, but it was exhausting. "I have to be conscious of her existence."

"Only conscious?" Carina laughed.

Vilhelm chuckled. "She can ignore her outright if she wants."

Suddenly, Vilhelm and Carina scrambled to their feet, bowing to the person standing behind her.

"Asta."

When Asta turned around to see Kouen, one of the guards knocked the cup of beer out of her hand. The cup hit the wall and ricocheted to the ground, its contents spilling.

Asta gasped, jerking around to the two with a hint of displeasure. She opened her mouth to protest. Whoever knocked the cup out of her hand did it on purpose, knowing it'd embarrass her that Kouen saw her. She suspected it was Carina.

"Don't worry, princess, we'll clean this up for you," Carina assured with a smile.

It was definitely Carina.

Kouen remained unfazed. "We need to talk."

Asta quietly made her way to Kouen, who waited until she was standing before him to leading her towards the general direction of their bedchamber.

"You are excessively friendly to your staff," commented Kouen, startling her with the suddenness of his remark. They were one long corridor away from reaching their bedchamber.

She glimpsed at him, her heart hammering in her chest. "I understand it is not befitting of my position."

"Yes, and it could be problematic," he told her.

"I will work to remedy it."

At the entrance to their bedchamber, he paused, looking to her. "I do not dislike the problematic."

The heat rose to her face and colored her cheeks. Her heart skipped a beat.

Bo took note of her blush as she exited, paused, and said, "What is the meaning of this?"

Surprisingly, she didn't have words to describe it. She entered the room shortly after Kouen, slapping both of her cheeks lightly to stop the red from spreading to the rest of her face. They were alone.

"Did you make use of your time this afternoon with Lady Tjäder?" asked Kouen, facing her head-on.

"Lady Tjäder didn't offer me many opportunities to speak with her privately," she answered, stuttering a bit at the start. "Her soldiers were rarely out of earshot, but she asked me a few strange questions?"

"Such as?"

"She asked if I was treated well and commented on the lack of military presence in the castle."

"She was likely scouting the castle's defenses."

Asta didn't want to believe that she was, but she didn't think she could afford thinking in that manner. Distantly, she heard the echo of Brita's warning in her head, telling her not to trust anyone. She wanted to see things unfold. She wanted to show Kouen that there was goodness in all of the people of Ione and that nobody was plotting against him or the Kou Empire, but after Freja's comment on how easy it would be to conquer the castle Asta felt the conversation had taken an ominous turn. She didn't like the feeling of distrust.

"I—I don't…I don't think I can trust her," Asta admitted. It was difficult to put into words. She hated the sound of it. Her voice sounded melancholic and it was wavering. She didn't like that it lacked the strength required of her admittance, but she couldn't help it.

"We will work together," Kouen told her. "If you place your trust in me, I can guarantee you a comfortable life here in your own country or in mine. You will not be of want of anything. You will be safe and if you are willing to convince your people to cooperate, they will be as well. If there is anyone within Ione that wishes to rebel, _we _will find them and deal with them in the appropriate manner, whether that be in accepting their challenge to start a war or not."

That wasn't a yes or no question. It only had one answer.

"Yes."

"You cannot waver, Asta," he said, "and you cannot betray me."

"I won't," she vowed, gulping nervously. "I swear."

Maybe she was making a mistake. Maybe this could be remedied in some other way. Maybe she shouldn't have suggested that they work together yesterday.

There were many maybes running through her head.

But as Kouen said, she could not waver.

She would believe in his words.


	9. (03) Cinder Crown - Pt 3

**CINDER CROWN** | LADY BO

* **i** *

Bo was among the first people up in the castle. This was her favorite time of day—the quietness, the gray sky outside the windows, the chill, and the seemingly empty castle harmonized perfectly. She prepared herself for the day starting with a quick bath and woke the princess' attendants for breakfast after she dressed and deemed her appearance impeccable. Once she and the other attendants enjoyed a small, healthy breakfast, she sent two of them to fetch breakfast for Asta where they would likely encounter the prince's attendants doing the same. Four others she tasked with preparing for the princess' bath.

Bo woke Asta personally, disappointed to find a cat sleeping with her in place of her husband. The orange tabby yawned as the remaining four attendants began to tidy the room before breakfast was brought in.

"Good morning," said Bo.

Asta stretched her arms high over her head after sitting up. "Good morning."

"You slept well, I hope?"

The princess nodded. "What do we have planned for today?

"Your schedule will remain clear until after your father's funerary rites have been fulfilled," she said. "Until then, you are at liberty to do as you please."

Asta brightened. "Anything?"

"Anything _within reason_," clarified Bo. "I don't want you out there riding horses and falling off them. You're a princess and that sort of sport is not befitting of you."

"I promise I will not leave the castle, Lady Bo," the princess vowed, her freckled face glowing with excitement.

The princess kept her word. Bo would never think to doubt her honesty. However, Bo should not have expected any less in her choice of activities when she discovered the princess and her guards engaged in an intense game that appeared to require that everyone run away from Carina. The Great Hall saw the most clamoring, though occasionally one could hear the echo of laughter fill the empty corridors or whispered warnings of Carina's approach.

Bo watched from the second floor that overlooked the opened-ceiling Hall as Asta ran across the gargantuan room, her laughter bouncing off the walls, with Carina in hot pursuit.

Carina chased Asta around a long table before Vilhelm slammed open the side door and beckoned the princess to him.

Asta sprang towards Vilhelm. Carina jumped over the table swiftly to cut her off, but the princess ducked under her grab and scrambled out the door where the castle's acoustics carried away her voice deep into the dark corridor.

"Vilhelm!" shouted Carina, fuming.

Kåre, the bearded farmer that helped manage the castle's small vegetable garden, entered the Great Hall, but upon spotting the exasperated guard, he rushed out the door.

Carina chased him, yelling, "Where do you think you're going, Kåre?"

"Stop following me!" protested Kåre.

Bo noticed Kouen a moment later and approached him. She folded her arms over her chest.

"Honestly, that girl," she said huffily.

Asta and Vilhelm moved stealthily from across the hallway where they stood and snuck down the nearest flight of stairs. Carina stormed into sight a moment later, looking around. She spotted Kouen and bowed deeply before continuing her hunt.

The castle was a playground for the princess' whims. Its guards and servants indulged her all too willingly. They adored her. Perhaps, understanding the difficulty she endured after her father's death, they all wanted to make her feel anything but the sadness it provoked. She appreciated their efforts, but wished they had chosen a less disruptive game.

"I apologize for her unsightly behavior," she told Kouen.

"Asta is a child," said Kouen, pausing, "but she appears to mean well."

Bo felt a little relieved by his words.

"Did she fall off her horse hunting yesterday?"

She lowered her eyes when the prince looked in her direction, inclining her head in a respectful bow. "I would have been made aware if she had," she answered. "I am only aware that she had fallen off stairs."

Kouen nodded. "She is clumsy."

"She is _not_ clumsy." At his brief glance, Bo realized her defensive tone and inclined her head apologetically.

They locked eyes for the briefest of seconds. Admitting so brought on implications that Bo was not comfortable making because it meant she had failed in one very important duty, which was to watch the princess closely.

"Ah, there you are, your majesty."

The chamberlain emerged from the corridor behind them. He offered her a polite, but tight-lipped smile.

Kouen walked away from Bo's side. The chamberlain followed close behind whispering to the prince.

Bo watched the chamberlain suspiciously. That one she most certainly disliked.

The princess' game ended at around lunchtime. Everyone had spent so much energy that they were left famished. The most of the guards dispersed to their mesh hall while the princess walked upstairs to take her lunch.

"Tell me about Chamberlain Bengt," said Bo, surprising Asta when she sat across from her at the table.

"What is there to say about him that you don't already know?" asked Asta.

"I am not an infinite bank of information, princess," said Bo. "For starters, why does everyone call him Slimy Bengt?"

"I do believe that nickname is self-explanatory."

The princess would not give her the information she needed, so she dropped the subject and allowed her to carry on peacefully with dinner.

Bo cornered one of the Olander siblings on her way to take her lunch.

"Tell me about Chamberlain Bengt," ordered Bo.

Vilhelm answered promptly, "His mother was a slug."

"We are speaking truths, Guard Vilhelm."

"Oh, I know."

"I will have your pay cut if you do not offer me relevant information on that man."

"You are better off knowing what you know than digging up for more, Lady Bo," said Vilhelm, serious. "Princess Asta is very fond of you, whether she shows it or not."

"Is that a threat?" asked Bo.

"I would never threaten you, Lady Bo," said Vilhelm honestly. "I apologize if it sounded like one. The thing is Chamberlain Bengt is protected under a number of laws and is a highly influential man in this country. Even the princess cannot oppose him."

"The princess?"

That struck a chord.

"Do you feel the princess would like to oppose him?" added Bo.

"She's too nice."

Bo put her finger on her chin thoughtfully. "You don't say."

"Vilhelm! We're on rotation next," called a soldier from the princess' guard. He inclined his head in acknowledgment of her. "Good afternoon, Lady Bo."

She echoed his greeting.

"I should go," said Vilhelm. "Be careful who you ask about Slimy Bengt. There are more soldiers in this castle that support him than there are people that are loyal to the princess. King Hákon made certain of that."

"Worry not, Guard Vilhelm, I can take care of myself."

"Excuse me, Lady Bo." Vilhelm inclined his head politely and joined the other soldier, the two walking to their posts.

Bo entered the staffer's dinner hall to join the rest of the princess' attendants. Bengt sat at the end of a long table. The balding male ate in silence and in his own company. It was rare to see him share a meal with another person, though that was not to say nobody liked to eat dinner with him, it was his choice. Whenever someone approached him to share a meal, it meant they wanted something from him.

She took a tray with her lunch to his table and smiled as he lifted his eyes to hers.

"Good afternoon, chamberlain," Bo greeted.

"Oh, Lady Bo, good afternoon," said Bengt. "I didn't think I would see you here."

"Why? Did I appear busy this morning?"

"Someone does need to rein the princess in," he remarked in a sufficiently joking manner, though it was critical enough for her. "I saw she enlisted her entire guard into a game of tag."

"She is a silly girl," said Bo.

"_Ah_, how very rude of me! Why don't you join me, Lady Bo?" Bengt gestured to the seat across his.

"Why, thank you." Bo took the seat he offered and picked up her utensils.

"She is very much like her mother," said Bengt. "Not all too competent, but as enduring as a weed."

Bo laughed, twirling the silver fork around her fingers. "I agree."

He puffed up with delight. "How do you handle her? She is a rude child."

"It is nothing a little discipline does not solve."

"Although, I do think you should keep a keener eye on her," Bengt suggested, at the furrowing of her brow, he stammered out a few more words. "It is not to say that you are negligent, it is that I believe leaving her with this much time on her hands is a mistake. She is falling off horses and down stairs. It must be troubling for Prince Kouen to be married to such a troublesome girl."

"Truly?" questioned Bo, twirling her fork round and round with wonderful dexterity. "I do believe they are a good match."

Bengt barked out a laugh. "How amusing you are, Lady Bo."

Most of the princess' attendants had finished their lunches and had returned to their duties. The dinner hall was empty once Fu and Hua made their way out the door, which left them alone, together with the room's stillness.

"So, tell me, Lady Bo, why was such a refined woman like yourself chosen to come to this humble country?" asked Bengt, the shift in his tone was evident. All semblance of professionalism started to lift in the same manner a dense fog dissipated. "Surely, the Kou Empire has its princesses as well. You could do much better there."

Bo set down her knife atop one corner of her circular plate and stopped twirling her fork, gripping it tightly instead. "Princess Asta can very well become the next reigning empress of the Kou Empire," she answered honestly. "Our current empress trusted me to be certain that she was a suitable choice."

"Surely, Prince Kouen had better prospects."

"Of course, but he chose her."

"He chose the army."

"That is but a small, insignificant detail of the affair. Your princess will become a good wife to Prince Kouen."

"You believe so?"

"I am certain she will after I am through with her."

"Then you must not have heard."

Bo kept her expression cool because she expected the worst to come out of his mouth. "Heard? Of what?"

Carefully, Bengt shifted in his seat and placed both hands flat upon the table to hoist himself up to learn towards her. He spoke, whispering, "That the princess is the Castle Guard's whore."

She felt the moment the last of her patience and restraint snapped. She turned the fork in her hand as she lifted it high and slammed it through the chamberlain's right hand. He let out a powerful cry, his entire face turned red with pain immediately. She drew her knife to his neck, forcing him to move back and wince before he attempted to grab at her.

"You bitch," he spat. "Don't think you can get away with this."

She pressed the knife closer to his throat, cutting in shallowly. A line of blood appeared against the pasty white base and a droplet fell, gliding down the curve of his neck.

"I am amazed that you thought your audacious treatment of the princess would be overlooked forever," said Bo seriously.

"What lies has that harlot told you?"

"You will find that the princess is too kind to admit that someone threw her down the stairs," she answered. "She'd rather lie and say she tripped. I might have overlooked you if you hadn't been so obvious and you could have continued mistreating her all you wished."

"She needs to learn her place!" cursed Bengt. "She likes to interfere too much with political affairs when it's no place for a stupid woman like her."

"Chamberlain Bengt!" she said loudly, though it did not silence his pained grumbling. "If you have any hope to continue living your useless, power mongering life, I recommend you do so keeping your hands off the princess. However, as I know the kind of man that you are, I am certain you won't, but be aware that if you dare harm her in any way—"

"What? You will tell the prince?" he interrupted snidely.

"—you will have me to deal with," she finished, lowering her knife to the table's surface. "It is not she that needs to learn her place, it is you."

She pushed the fork in deeper inside his hand and smiled when he pleaded for her to stop.

"It was nice having lunch with you, Chamberlain Bengt," she said with a cheery disposition. She left the room, slamming the door shut, silencing his protests.

Bo returned upstairs to the princess' room to find her crawling along the floor wagging a feather around in front of the orange tabby's face. When he sprung to grab it, she pulled the feather away, landing gracefully, the cat searched for it. He crawled under the bed as Asta's laughter filled the room.

"Princess?"

Asta noticed her and got on her feet with a smile. Her eyes moved and zeroed in on one of Bo's sleeves. "What is that? Is that blood?"

Bo looked at a dot of red on the edge of her pink sleeve, amazed that the princess saw that. "One of the cooks cut themselves while I was down there," she lied, frowning, "I must have brushed against them on my way out. I'll have to go get redressed."

She nodded.

Bo exited. She ran into Carina outside the door as she took her shift and paused before the blond woman, looking up at her. "Never leave the princess' side for a moment."

"Yes, ma'am."

**CINDER CROWN** | END


	10. (04) Blueblood Scoria - Pt 1

**FOUR**: Blueblood Scoria

* * *

**House Hult**

After Io, the Warrior Queen, took control of Ione, she offered the natives that aided in her conquest a treaty that would unify their kingdoms in which her eldest daughter would wed their king's eldest prince and bind them together in peace. The native king, however, admired Io's skill and natural affinity for leadership that he bend down before her and swore fealty to her, asking nothing in return. He willingly signed the treaty without the need of a wedding to solidify the union of their vastly different kingdoms.

Io rewarded the king by making him one of her most esteemed advisors and allowed him, along with his people, to remain in the forest kingdom that eventually became the Hult Province.

The Hult Province works to preserve the natural forests of its kingdom. Like the Åkerman Province, it has only a few inhabitable villages within its massive territory. There are four, including the Hult family's property. It houses a lot of small private properties that are owned by nobles throughout Ione that go there to stay during hunting season or festivals hosted by the Hult family. The Royal Bathhouse is located near the outskirts of the province and it is the preferred place to fulfill ritual practices by the royal family. Despite it being inside the province, it is a property owned by the royal family.

Agda Hult is the current head of the province.

Hult Province borders Io Castle.

**House Nyström**

The Nyström Province was an uninhabited chunk of land off the coast of Ione. The history of its original inhabitants claimed that it was once a part of Ione, but that after the ground shook so hard it destroyed its thriving civilization, it broke apart. Io's youngest daughter took on the small island as a project. She searched the ruins for information on the previous inhabitants and spread her findings to the rest of her people. She later aided in the construction of several villages along the coasts, leaving all remnants undisturbed. She discovered over time that there were larger fish populations circling the island, which brought work to it. Fishermen and tradesmen settled there, building lives and stretching Ionian society to the island.

Io's youngest daughter eventually married and had children, who she entrusted with the livelihood of the island. House Nyström, like House Tjäder, is an aristocratic family descendant from Io. Unlike the Warrior House, the Nyström family has prided themselves on family values, loyalty, and intelligence.

The Nyström Province is an angler's island. The large quantity of fish within its vicinity made shellfish a popular and defining Ionian dish. They work closely with the Öman Province because of trade. The province is home to ten villages and one city where the Nyström Seat is located, which links them together.

Gry Nyström is the current head of the province.

Nyström is located off the coast of the Öman Province. There are ports connecting the two together where a ferry goes to and from both provinces on a daily basis. There used to be a bridge, but during a terrible storm, the violent sea swallowed it.

* * *

**xl**: Hello everyone! You've made it to the new chapter! I am sorry about the mix up and the false promise for more chapters. :'(

Happy Halloween to all that are into that business. And Feliz Dia de los Muertos for those that celebrate that tomorrow. I do both. I hope everyone has a wonderful time. If you celebrate none of these, Happy Saturday and I hope you enjoy the rest of the weekend.

I apologize for not updating. I was editing the previous chapters. Here's a C&amp;P from my LJ about changes:

1\. The story has completely been converted to Asta's POV. However, certain chapters will have extras that will often be told in another character's POV. For example, the first chapter has Kouen, the second has Brita, and the third has Bo. I hope this format works as well for the readers as it does for me. The extra chapters can and will always be relevant to the current plot or the overarching plot (or even smaller storylines). So, you should totes go back and read the extra in the previous chapter because it's awesome.  
2\. I am re-upping all the intro chapters to because they're actually important and I erased them. Shame on me, I know.  
3\. I rewrote a number of scenes, but nothing has really changed. So, for current readers, you don't really have to go back and read unless you really want to. There are more important points that I will be making in the upcoming chapters that will essentially fill you in on certain things.

That is all.

I promised 2 chapters, but I bring you one. Ch 5 will be posted early November and updates will be more constant now that I am happy with the story. So, please enjoy.

Thank you everyone for adding the story to your favorites/alert lists. I saw a lot of new people adding and I was excited! So, thank you. I hope that you enjoy the ride. I'm sorry if it's been a little messy thus far. And many, many thanks and cyber-candy to these wonderful people for reviewing: **NotAndreea**, **Sky65**, **Unlimited Power**, **EdenMae**, **Torfeyy**, and **Yui's Sweet Dream**. Again, I am sorry for the long wait.

**Anonymous Review Responses**:

**Torfeyy**: _I am sorry for the wait. You are already my favorite person for liking Lady Bo. Thank you for reading and reviewing._

Please enjoy the new installment.


	11. (04) Blueblood Scoria - Pt 2

**BLUEBLOOD SCORIA** |

{ **i** }

Tearfully, Asta had clung to her folded legs, hiccupping and sobbing softly, when her mother had parted the pale curtain that surrounded her small bed.

"Asta," she had called softly. She had stepped forward and taken a seat at the foot of her bed. "Have you had another nightmare?"

She had nodded. She had dreamt of hooded figures with pale white faces crowding her in the center of a cold desert, above her the sky had been a mirror that reflected the blood offered to her. She had woken with a chill and with the distinct metallic scent of blood, spoilt and fresh, drying and clotting. She had opened her eyes and had seen one of the faceless hooded figures hovering above her face. She had screamed, kicking away all the sheets, and had blinked, realizing that it had been her imagination. That had not stilled her heart, ramming like a violent drum in her chest, it had instilled a different kind of fear in her.

Nightmares had frequented her sleep since she had been captured by rebels some time ago. They had not treated her badly. They had apologized to her repeatedly and had tried their best to create a non-frightening environment, but she had been sad that she had not been able to see her mother each day that she had been in captivity. They had promised to take her home as soon as her father had agreed to listen to their requests. Her father had arrived wielding violence and Commander Ivor's soldiers had massacred every person in sight.

The physician had told her they would go away eventually, but enough time had passed since and she had wanted them gone, exhausted with the sleep they had taken from her.

"What did you dream about?"

Asta had shaken her head, sealing her eyes shut to keep the images from seeping back into her mind.

"You don't want to speak about it?"

"No."

Her mother had reached to caress her face. "A woman once told me that dreams are a reflection of the subconscious."

"T-The what?" Asta had hiccupped, her interest piqued.

"Subconscious. It is something that is rooted inside you," her mother had said, moving her fingers to the center of her forehead, "that can influence your actions. It is something that is present, but at the same time not."

"What does that have to do with my dreams?"

"You have worries and experiences and frights and knowledge embedded deep inside your mind that you may not be aware of," her mother had continued, dropping her hand back into her lap. "That woman had described it as a small voice in a crowd of shouting people. Nobody hears it speak, so it remains unknown. Your dreams are that tiny whisper trying to tell you something."

"Tell me something? But they're scary dreams, mom." Asta had scrunched up her blankets tightly. "Scary dreams are _just_ scary! There's no little voice!"

Her mother had smiled. "Maybe you'll change your mind if you meet her."

"Who?"

"Maeve."

Asta opened her eyes and rose onto her elbows before her mother's white outline faded into the darkness. She sat up and rubbed her face, blinking sleepily until the odd tingling abandoned her flesh.

Once the chill set in, Asta left her bed and ventured out. The Olander siblings were off sleeping, but Sigge, the Bear, as he was nicknamed, stood guard at her door. The auburn haired man stood upright upon hearing her and bowed deeply. Even bent in half, the man was huge, broad, and bulging with muscles. His face was kind and his personality complimentary, though it did not suit his powerful body one bit.

Like the Olander siblings, Asta had grown up alongside Sigge.

"Is there something you need, princess?" asked Sigge.

"I wanted some air," she answered. "Have you been here long?"

"No, princess, my shift started half an hour ago."

"Would you like to walk with me?"

He bowed his head. "It would be my pleasure, but you should probably find yourself a coat. It is cold."

Asta returned to her room for one of the woolen coats and tugged it on as she shut the door behind her. She and Sigge walked towards the eastern tower where they made a turn into the arched balcony that wrapped around the wing. Soldiers from the Kou Empire patrolled the area, moving in and out of sight every ten-minute interval. Sigge insisted immediately to find her a seat and left her under the watchful eye of a soldier.

Asta stood leaning up against the balustrade, meditating with the sound of the wind and the eerie rustling of trees. She feared the midnight sounds because her overactive mind conjured haunting images. She focused the beat of her heart with each deep breath she exhaled and opened her eyes to the stretch of darkness that fell across the Hult's forest.

_"Asta."_

Her muscles locked. Sigge's voice was much lower and he would never call her name without attaching the appropriate title. Kouen was the only one that would call her name, but his voice was deeper, richer. The voice behind her was familiar. She heard her name roll off that man's tongue as if it were sweet poison and endured the sting of his words for years.

She heard the quiet pad of booted feet as they fell in line beside her. The powerful scent of blood reached her, dulling the crisp smells of nature.

_"I hated the name Asta. I wanted to name you Skadi, but your mother insisted you bear the name of the capital. I always thought Astoria was a stupid name. So, I could deal with Asta, but I hated it regardless."_ A pause and a sigh. _"Say what you will, but I loved your mother."_

Paralyzed by the fear of realizing that she inherited her mother's affliction, Asta repeated to herself that it was only her imagination and that her father had not risen from death to speak to her on the balcony. However, a cold hand wrapped around her shoulder and his frozen breath pressed against her ear.

_"This isn't your imagination, my child,"_ he whispered darkly. _"I'm right here."_

Asta's eyes snapped opened and she recoiled. The shadow that stood beside her that had taken her father's shape disappeared in fragments before her eyes. She blinked, tears springing into her eyes, and released the breath lodged in her throat, watching the heat kick up a white cloud. A shudder weakened her knees and her fearful heart hammered. She sank to the floor, holding onto the balustrade, and cried silently.

"Princess?" Sigge set down a cushioned bench and got down on one knee, his huge body cast a shadow across her smaller form. "What happened?"

Asta gave him her hand and felt his warm fingers wrap around it, pulling her back onto her feet gently. She looked up at the kind giant and whispered, "It was only a fright."

"The night can be a frightening beast, but you're not alone."

Sigge rummaged through his pockets after she released his hand and offered her his handkerchief. Asta thanked him and patted her cheeks dry, apologizing to him when she returned it to him. Sigge pushed the cushioned bench closer to the railing and she sat beside the guard in silence, finding his presence comforting.

It was enough to convince herself that she had imagined her father's appearance, but the odd feeling in the pit of her stomach tightened into a stone. She couldn't let it go, but other thoughts found their way inside her head. The meeting with the Ionian House would be happening soon. She wanted to believe that she was doing the right thing by agreeing to stay at her husband's side, but she no longer knew what that was.

Would standing beside her husband be a display of subjugation? Would that mean she waved her white flag? Or would the people understand her actions?

During these times, she wondered what her aunt would do in her situation? What about Io, the ferocious Warrior Queen that conquered Ione? Would she need to become the face of a rebellion to undo her father's wrong? Or could she convince the people that the Kou Empire meant no harm? Would they believe that when she herself was unsure about their nation? The Kou Empire's reputation for swallowing up countries it conquered came to mind persistently and she felt inclined to protect her people, but she did not know how to do so.

Sigge did not interrupt the chaos in her mind until dawn broke. Darkness transitioned to light. The sun rose from beyond the Hult forest and dispelled the shadows. Birds chirped their morning song. Guards swapped positions on the dot.

Asta stood, suspecting that Bo and her attendants would be at her door at any moment, and turned to Sigge, gratefully. "Thank you for accompanying me."

Sigge inclined his head. "It was an honor."

He walked her back to her bedchamber. She thanked him once more outside of her door and entered her room. She wandered curiously towards the entrance to Kouen's solar, but stopped herself from knocking. She had about a thousand questions pending, but did not feel it was right to disturb his sleep.

She crawled into bed as the cold sank into her skin. She hoisted the coverlet over her head and shut her eyes tight. Not again, she told herself, not again. The same feeling that overwhelmed her outside in the balcony started to seep underneath her flesh and she feared her father's voice would manifest above her to taunt her, but the door to her bedchamber opened instead, startling her.

Something sprang onto her back and she yelped turning and scrambling towards the end of the bed. She heard a low meow that filled her with relief. She pushed the blankets off her head and looked at Joa. The large tabby yawned, its big brown eyes staring sleepily at her.

She imagined it all. She told herself and slept.

{ **ii** }

Asta noticed an increase in guard presence around her. That sort of development was not wrong during times of dissent where protecting the royal family was of monumental importance. Ione, however, presently sat under the peaceful guise of harmony. There weren't any upheavals since the Kou Empire's aid circulated the kingdom, though that was not to say that they had not simply been pushed underneath the surface of their equanimity. Perhaps, her stubborn form of belief negated all the signs of which everyone else was aware. Maybe she trusted too easily, as she was so often accused, and thought too naively to see beyond the feigned temperament of the people.

What if they were furious about her compliance? Did they want her to steal the throne from her father in his absence? Was that what the denizens of Ione expected of her defiance? What did they hope she accomplished from her current situation? Did they understand the fact that her marriage was quite the permanent arrangement?

Critical thought had not abandoned her after waking. In fact, she was certain it had pursued her with persistence through dreams on lights that filled the night sky to the shattering earth that swallowed everything into its core. She developed a little self-loathing for being a weak and incompetent princess by the time the sun began to set.

The servants went around lighting the castle, beginning their evening chores. The cooks downstairs worked fervently to prepare supper, which she eventually took in her lonesome company with seven guards standing outside her door, five more than the usually modest number.

As the day slowly ended, surrounded by her attendants as they prepared her for bed, Asta received an unexpected visit.

Bengt entered her bedchamber, a sour look upon his wrinkled face. She did not fail to notice the absence of his journal, which he never left behind, and that his writing hand was wrapped in gauze.

Bo moved up behind her, draping a coat over her shoulders.

"Good evening, princess." Bengt bowed, reluctant but respectfully. "The prince requests an audience with you. He is waiting in your mother's library. Come, I will escort you."

"There is no need," said Bo. "Guard Carina will accompany her. I am certain you have more important matters pending."

Bengt's nostrils flared. "I do not," he said. "It was his majesty's request that I bring the princess to him."

Strangely, Bo approached Bengt, who stepped back cautiously. She leaned forward and whispered lowly, words that reached only his ears while Asta watched on confused by his wide-eyed reaction.

Bo turned to her. "Go on, princess, you cannot keep your husband waiting."

Asta slid her arms through her coat and tugged it over her shift.

Bengt waited for her outside and walked half a step behind her. She found herself staring at his bandaged hand every time she stole a glance. The chamberlain was audacious. He did not respect her. In fact, he abhorred her and never walked behind her, so she found it suspicious that he appeared to have made the effort to do the respectful thing.

"What happened to your hand?" she asked.

"I cut myself earlier."

"That's unfortunate. I hope it heals quickly."

Bengt left her in front of her mother's library. She entered after knocking, peering in first to find Kouen standing by a bookshelf in the lower level.

"Close the door."

Asta did. She approached him as he read the labels of her mother's collection. Curiously, she ran her hand along the spines of several tomes in the adjacent shelf and looked at him.

"Do you enjoy books?"

"Only if they offer me knowledge."

"Oh." She noticed his mouth tightened in irritation. "My mother was the same."

When he turned, she looked away to the gold lettering sitting on the tips of her fingers. She removed them, feeling a bit shaky as the knots in her stomach began to tighten and the air in her lungs thinned out. They were alone.

"Bengt said you wanted to speak to me," she whispered shakily.

"Our meeting with the Ionian House is tomorrow morning," he reminded her. "You are previously acquainted with the members of the Ionian House, right?"

"Yes," she said meekly.

"You will be the bait," he informed, surprising her. "After rules like your father's, people naturally search for a savior—someone that will make it all better. You are the people's savior, Asta. You have time and again rebelled against your father." He met her eyes and the breath left her lungs. "You rallied the Castle Guard to fight for your mother's freedom. Although, it cost many of them their lives, they followed you willingly, and you knelt before your father to spare those that remained. Though they were exiled, they lived because of you. And when you were kidnapped by upstarts, you put your life on the line for them."

Asta lowered her eyes, guilt spreading through her. "I understand my actions led to the death of many."

"Surprisingly, your actions inspired your people. Stupid as they were, you showed them that you were willing to fight for them against the man they perceived a tyrant. People love you because they believe you are the fearless hero they have been waiting for since Hákon revealed his intentions and that your path is the road to the utopia they dream of having. You are kind, compassionate, and ebullient. People speak of your generosity and gentleness. The servants and the guards admire your honesty."

Did he compliment her? Her cheeks warmed.

"However, the people are not aware that your actions have been mostly driven by your naïve and impetuous nature, but the Ionian House is. As such, you are an easy target for people's ill-intent."

Asta deflated.

"You were also your father's weakness."

"You are mistaken," she said, shaking her head. "He did not care for me. I was as much a prisoner in this castle as my mother."

"Hákon gave this kingdom to the Kou Empire because we guaranteed your protection."

She resisted against the wave of emotion taking hold of her. She shook her head. "He hated me. He could pretend and deny it all he wanted, but he hated me. He's mocked my ambitions and grown bored of my company. I was never enough for him. I was not the son he wanted. I'm a woman and that was wrong. But what about him? He singlehandedly drove my kingdom into the ground. Thousands of people died during the famine. He drafted everyone into the army. My mother went insane in the eastern tower. The people have had every right to rebel against him."

"He kept you within the reach of the castle to ensure your safety. He built an army so vast and powerful to attract the attention of a nation capable of protecting you in his absence." Kouen took a single step towards her. "His methods were extreme, but his intention was clear. You could say he painted himself a tyrant, so people would look upon you and see their only hope. Coincidentally, that would protect you from me."

Asta teared up as she stared into her husband's face.

"Do you think your people would stand idly if they heard I mistreated you?"

She let out a sob and covered her mouth. She refused to believe any of it.

"I can't say I understand your father's reasons completely, but I do know that he secured your future," Kouen continued. "You may never be queen of Ione, but in the unified world, you will be empress."

She wiped at her eyes. She disagreed. She knew her father and he loved power. He sold her to the Kou Empire because that meant becoming a part of a bigger power. He used her to his benefit when he could if that meant striking fear into his subjects. He killed Johan. He killed her mother. He did it to hurt her.

"Ionian nobility is a point in politics that needs to be resolved," said Kouen, stepping away from her. "The probability that Hákon's death will give them reason to rebel is high. I need you to weed out the rebels from within the House. We keep who we need and dispose who we don't."

"Dispose?"

"If an individual is determined to fight against a new order without providing benefit, they won't be necessary."

Asta lowered her head.

"You should be aware of it now."

"Of what?" she asked, raising her eyes.

"That you cannot save everyone."

"What am I supposed to do?"

"Listen and be resolute. Simple enough. Do everything in your power to protect the Ionian House."

"What will you do?"

"Observe."

Asta wrapped her coat tighter around her nervously. "That will be all?"

He nodded.

"Okay."

Kouen's gaze flickered. "Go rest."

Asta walked towards the door, pausing halfway, and looked over her shoulder. "And you?" she asked softly. "It is late and…" Her face flushed at the thought of the words she struggled to speak. "I will…I don't think..."

She wished she possessed a smidgen of Bo's bluntness to get through the conversation.

Kouen's expression soured. "You're mumbling."

She startled. "I-I'm sorry. It was nothing. Good night."

Asta left quickly in a panic.

Bo waited in her bedchamber for her to arrive. Her caretaker rose to her feet.

"Everything is well I presume?"

Asta smiled. "Yes."

"Into bed then."

"Did you hear about Slimy Bengt's hand?" asked Asta, climbing onto her bed.

Bo helped tuck her in. "An awful accident."

"He won't be writing in that journal of his anytime soon."

Her caretaker laughed. "Indeed."

"He looks miserable," said Asta, pitying him.

"No reason to feel sorry for that cretin."

"Cretin?"

"Well, I am certain he did not come across the nickname _Slimy Bengt_ for being a ray of sunshine."

Asta giggled. "He didn't."

Bo pulled the coverlet over Asta and patted it. "Good night, princess."

She closed her eyes and dreamt of Kouen. Perhaps it had been a subconscious thing as her mother had often said when describing the nature of her nightmares. She saw him in darkness with the sun in his hands. Its light cast hard shadows across his face, but his expression was soft.

Asta woke with his name on her lips and the feeling that something about him would change.

The curtains parted and a rod of soft light fell across her feet. She looked up to Kouen's face. Her heart seized up.

"You called me?" he asked.

"It was a dream," she whispered. "I had a dream."

"A dream?"

She hoped the warm light from the fireplace hid her reddened cheeks. She realized belatedly that she admitted to a dream that involved him and panicked at the thought of it being misconstrued into something inappropriate. "Yes. I'm sorry if I disturbed you."

He released his hold on the canopy's curtains and she sank back into the darkness. She couldn't bring herself to ask him to sleep with her knowing that it might mean doing more. She reminded herself that she was his wife and that it was her duty, but she also recognized his kindness in allowing her to get away without doing her wifely duties. He didn't seem to mind, but a part of her was starting to. Not because of the threat of concubines, which was Bo's main concern, but because she wanted the marriage to work. She needed it to stay intact. He could be the only hope she had to ensure the survival of her people.

Honestly, she worried about the concubines as well…a little more each day. She figured she could live with them because it was a part of his culture, which she wanted to respect, but her overactive imagination led her down a dark road. If she failed at her position as his wife, would he not divorce her and replace her with a concubine? She didn't know whether he could do so or not, but the thought haunted her for several disconcerting hours. She tried not to worry. Her feelings wouldn't be hurt by the presence of other women because she wasn't in love with him. Loving him was an odd thought. She couldn't imagine loving another man. Johan was lodged in her heart. In her better dreams, she saw her world with him at her side, but reality reminded her quickly that she was married to another.

Kouen and his empire made the difference in her kingdom. If she let it all slip through her fingers, if an ambitious concubine replaced her, if she could not provide heirs or a purpose, she wouldn't have the slightest idea what to do. Dealing with Bengt was the last thing she wanted too.

With all her worries circling her head, Asta exhausted herself to sleep.

{ **iii** }

Asta had not been able to stomach breakfast that morning. She had woken before Bo had arrived to her room; the anxiety had persisted until she had given it her attention. She had dressed in a dreary colored gown, in the Ionian fashion, and her white hair had been braided.

The House's representatives would gather at Io Castle in their Meeting Hall within its western wing. It had been cleaned thoroughly over the course of yesterday. Broken furniture had been replaced, insects had been chased out, and new paintings had been fitted. Servants had been handpicked from the staff to serve them if called, the guards had been chosen to patrol the surrounding area, and the adjacent room had been cleaned out to accommodate each representative's guards.

Food was prepared downstairs for the follow-up lunch that had been scheduled to occur after the meeting concluded.

Asta was nervous upon hearing that several representatives had arrived. Kouen watched her with a hint of exasperation as she paced anxiously around the room. She had found a way to make his simplified request into a web of confusion, a convoluted piece of negativity and self-conscious fright.

She thought about everything that could go wrong and all that would. She had no doubt in her mind that she would say something unnecessary before the meeting concluded.

Bengt courteously knocked at the door and announced that the last Ionian House member arrived. Asta froze in her tracks. Kouen rose from his seat at the table as Bengt excused himself, frowning disapprovingly as he did. Her husband turned his sharp eyes on her and she jumped.

"Sorry."

She walked out first and waited outside for Kouen. They went downstairs to the small crowd of noble leaders waiting on their arrival inside one of the largest sitting rooms in the castle.

Asta entered with Kouen half a step behind her and the aristocrats ended all conversation, turning to them and bowing with respect. She spotted her aunt in a high necked, double-breasted military coat standing with Kay Åkerman, a bearded man with his hair combed back, and Ylva Vång, the wife of Egil, with her sleek cheekbones, small eyes, and thin-lipped smile.

Gry Nyström, from the angler's province, was a tiny, gray woman. She stood alone with expressed disdain. Round Caj Öman, giant Finn Byquist, and elegant Cilla Strand had been laughing when they had entered. Cilla's pale green eyes found her face and lit up. She, Agda Hult, and Rolf Ljung were the first to step forward to greet them.

"Sweet Princess," called Agda genially, touching her shoulders. The older woman was tall and built strong like the trees of her forest province. She wore her brown hair short, a mere two inches long, and her face, though weathered with age appeared younger than a number of her contemporaries. "You look well."

"You have not kept your promise, princess," said Cilla, brushing a loose strand of her jet-black hair off her naked shoulder. "You owe my province a visit." Her pale green eyes went to Kouen, shining with interest. "You are welcomed to come as well, Prince Kouen."

"This is Cilla Strand, leader of the Ionian Guild," Asta introduced, then gestured to the older woman, "and Agda Hult, our neighbor. To her left is Rolf Ljung, he endorses the arts in this country."

Kouen inclined his head in acknowledgment. Slowly, the others approached and Asta introduced them. Questions concerning the summons arose immediately, though Freja was already aware of the news, she appeared to have kept quiet. Asta asked the members of the Ionian House to accompany her to the Meeting Hall. She was under the mistaken impression that the initial greeting would be the hardest. Walking with the others as they whispered behind her, Caj and Agda half-interrogated Kouen unsuccessfully, and Cilla asked one question after the next, probing her, making her more nervous than the early anticipation had. That had been difficult.

Cilla touched Asta's shoulder drawing her attention from her nervous thoughts. "I heard Lady Tjäder dropped in for a visit."

"Do you understand it is rude to speak of someone while they are within the vicinity, Lady Strand?" asked Freja, cutting between them to Cilla's displeasure.

"There is no need to start any fights, Lady Tjäder," said Kay, appearing to her left.

Asta looked onto Kouen helplessly, but he appeared engaged in an exchange with Caj and Agda.

Rolf and Finn laughed boisterously at something Ylva said. Asta had thought it would be odd to ask Ylva why she was standing in for her husband, but felt very curious to do so. Gry remained isolated at the far back, showing no interest in joining any passing conversation.

"No fights, Lord Åkerman," said Freja. "I only hoped that Lady Strand was taught the appropriate manners."

"Worry not, Lady Tjäder, you will find that I was," answered Cilla, grinning. "What purpose did you have to visit? I hope it was without ulterior motive."

"Do I need a true reason?" asked Freja. "The princess is my niece and I worry for her. I wanted to see that she was doing well."

"But for what purpose?"

"Lady Strand, it appears to me that you are determined to frustrate Lady Tjäder," commented Kay.

"She wanted to invite me to hunt," interjected Asta, sensing the tensions between her aunt and Cilla begin to rise. "Commander Werner exaggerated my talent with a bow and she wanted me to show her."

"It was a disappointing hunt," said Freja.

"I do doubt that," said Cilla. "Her majesty is a great shot."

"If she were aiming at trees and mounds of dirt, I would have to agree, but running targets appear to be her downfall," Freja criticized.

"It is nothing a little practice won't solve," said Kay with a gentle smile.

Asta nodded.

The aristocrats filed into the Meeting Hall, a grand room with five tall windows overlooking the tiny rooftops of the capital shielded in part by the ivory walls that surrounded it. Bright sunlight poured into the chamber, illuminating every corner and highlighting the cracks on the wall. A long table sat in the center, carved out of redwood and covered in a violet cloth lined with gold. There were eleven chairs, one at each end, five on each side and eleven silver goblets before each seat. Bottles of expensive wine were strategically placed on the table's surface with bowls of fruits to complement their drinks.

The doors sealed at her back as the Castle Guard left four soldiers to stand protectively at the entrance while the House's bodyguards were escorted into the adjacent room, forbidden entry into the hall. There they would be served as well as nobility while they waited and conversation among them was a point of interest to Kouen, so he had ordered Vilhelm and Sigge to join them as simply members of her guard.

The House members naturally gravitated to specific seats, but did not sit until she and Kouen had taken theirs at the ends.

Asta felt the lump in her throat again as all eyes scanned her face in search of answers. She peered at Kouen, who sat silent and observant—a vision of innate strength. Once the silence settled, everyone turned to him, expecting his words and his powerful voice to carry on a conversation that many felt had been long overdue, but it was hers that spoke up, drawing their attention with a snap.

Though soft and tremulous as her voice was, she appreciated that she managed to gain their attention. "I apologize for the sudden request and I appreciate that you have all come here in response to a matter of urgency."

She stuttered every other word. Her hands shook anxiously.

"My father is dead."

Sound shattered the quiet, voices overlapped and blended into one; questions found their way to her ears in jumbled pieces, exclamations and gasps ran rampant. The common inquiry, however, appeared to ask how and who. She found her voice a moment later and cleared her throat to rein them all in, all eyes returned to her face. Freja's gaze was intent, her reaction had been mimicry of the others' for she had already been aware of the misfortune, but she hid it well.

"He was killed in the battle for Corrin."

Again, she stole a glance of Kouen's expression in an instant of doubt. He observed her and the intensity of his stare left her a little breathless. Her heart beat wildly in her chest like an ensnared creature desperately seeking freedom. Her face remained unmarred by emotion, though it pained her to be reminded that her father would not return to make a difference in their lives. Despite Kouen's argument that her father had committed to his deeds to ensure her safety, Asta didn't acknowledge that as fact, only a mere observation on her husband's part.

Be resolute and determined, she told herself. Protect the Ionian House.

The Ionian House would not pose a threat to the Kou Empire. She promised that and set out to prove their innocence.

"I request that you help me gather as many people in the capital so that I may announce the death of our king," continued Asta, tremulous. The nobles exchanged glances, none too pleased by the idea as most lost all respect for her father when he ridiculed them. She lowered her eyes briefly. "Preparations for his funerary rites are underway and I will offer you more information as it becomes available."

"Do you expect us to honor your father for his misdeeds?" asked Agda. Asta's heart sank to the pit of her stomach, though she expected that sort of question to come up. "Should we glorify his tyranny and call it a good reign?"

"Should we forget what he did to Queen Ingrid?" added Gry. "What he did to us?" Every noble expressed their agreement to her powerful inquiry by either vocalizing it or physicalizing it with a gesture. "What about what he's done to you? To the country?"

"Perhaps, you should not be too quick to criticize what he did with the country with our new owner in the room," said Finn, his thick, muscular arms crossed over his broad chest. The older man eyed Kouen as if expecting a response.

"Oh, what a surprise?" came Cilla's voice, dripping sarcasm. "Lady Hult expresses her hatred towards King Hákon, Lady Nyström shows her support for Queen Ingrid, and Lord Byquist pretends he cares about our new foreign prince."

"You were a wee brat when the king dismantled the House," commented Ylva, her smooth face relaxed. "I do not believe you have a right to an opinion of the sort of comments your elders have to make."

Cilla laughed boisterously. "What say do you have, Lady Ylva? You're not even a member of the House!"

Asta watched the scene unfold helplessly.

Rolf uncorked a bottle of wine and poured himself a drink as he sat back to observe the escalation. His short golden curls fell effortlessly across his forehead, his face was chiseled and beautiful, like the perfection a sculptor strove to create with marble. The servants enjoyed his visits because they found him pleasant to look at. He offered wine to Caj, who sat to his left. He accepted, holding his goblet out to him.

Kay reached up to place his hand atop Cilla to stop her from springing out of her seat while Ylva defended her presence.

"In my husband's absence, I am Lady Vång of the Ionian House," said Ylva, her slender neck and long face made her resemble a white snake. "I have as much right to be here as you. Perhaps, even more so, seeing as you are a child."

"Yes, girl, know that you are only here because your father ran the misfortune of dying," said Caj, downing his drink. "You are much better off doing what you do best."

A number of nobles laughed mockingly and Cilla's elegant face went red.

"How dare any of you question my position?" she snapped, glaring at all that ridiculed her.

"Go back to opening your legs for whatever man or woman will have you," cursed Caj, waving a dismissive hand.

Cilla took her goblet and prepared to launch it across the table directly into Caj's face, but Kay grabbed her wrist and took the gilded cup from her. She demanded that he release her as the others spoke critically about her behavior, worsening her mood.

Asta snapped out of her own trance and saw an opportunity to intervene before they all drowned in hostility. She followed Cilla's example and took her own goblet. She threw it as hard as she could to the wall to her left. It hit hard, the sound reverberated through the room, cutting through the overlapping voices that immediately ceased. The goblet fell to the ground, clattering.

"E-Enough!"

When all eyes returned to her face, she realized her body was trembling. She started to feel nauseous as she addressed the silenced aristocrats.

"I did not call on you to bicker," she said, a little louder, a smidgen stronger. "I summoned you to a conversation—a _civil _conversation—to inform you of my father's death." To her amazement, she retained their attention. "I did not ask any of you to mourn his passing; I am ordering you all to create a platform for me to speak to the people about this matter because they deserve to know."

The adrenaline kicked in as she saw Cilla return to her seat and Caj set his goblet to the table. Gry, who sat to her right, leaned forward to listen.

"I would like to remind you that what he did to my mother was not an act he did alone," continued Asta, feeling anger welling inside her from the thought. "That was a mistake that you all committed with him."

The overall mood soured. The nobles, acknowledging their own wrongdoings, shrank in their seats in shame.

"This meeting is about Ione and its people," clarified Asta. She looked at Kouen, who appeared to be amused for a reason she could not pinpoint. "It is about the Kou Empire as well."

"Well, what does this mean to the Ionian House?" asked Ylva, collected.

"The Ionian House has automatically reinstated with my father's death," answered Asta.

"Will the kingdom fall into the Kou Empire's hands or pass onto yours?" asked Finn.

Asta opened her mouth to respond, but Kouen beat her to it.

"The Kou Empire will not stand in the way of her ascension," he said calmly. "Preparations for her coronation have already begun. The members of the Ionian House are welcomed to attend the ceremony."

She understood completely what he meant by becoming the bait now.

The mood in the room changed drastically with the news. The nobles rose from their seats and bowed deeply, one hand flat against their chests and the other behind their backs. "As it was destined, Queen Asta."

She stared at the nobles completely awestruck. One by one, the members of the House each swore on their aristocratic titles that they would comply with her earlier request and that all she needed to do was give the date.

Kouen rose from his seat, excusing himself. Asta did the same and pursued him out of the Meeting Hall. She called out to him as she tried to keep up with his strides, but he did not turn around until they were at a distance from everyone.

"A coronation?" she asked, breathless. "You said this country was yours and that I had no say in what became of it."

"Consider it a temporary title," he said. "Once the Byzen Cluster is under the Kou Empire's control and all its islands acclimate to the new government, you will become its retainer, given that you have learned everything necessary to do so."

"Of the entire Byzen Cluster?"

"Yes, but if you are found to be an unsuitable candidate when the time comes, another will be assigned to this location and you will come live with me."

"But—"

"Return to the Ionian House," he told her, interrupting.

"Where are you going?"

"I have other matters of importance. I will rejoin you later in the day."

The claw of anxiety made her stomach sink like a stone in water and she stepped closer to him. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Entertain them, as any able host would."

If their earlier display had been a preview of what she should expect, Asta did not want to return to them. Unconsciously, she pinched the bottom of Kouen's sleeve and stared up at him pleadingly. She didn't have Bo, any attendants, or even one of her guards at her side, she only had him. She wished she had the courage to ask him to stay because she didn't want to be alone in that jungle.

He took her hand briefly. The strong, warm hand that encased hers prompted her to release him. "You did well, Asta."

He complimented her again.

"Next time, don't shake so much," he deadpanned. "You looked like a frightened rabbit."

Asta's hands clenched into small fists, her face quick to redden. "I can't help that!"

"Hm."

Kouen walked away, leaving her to return to the waiting aristocrats. She found them a little more divided than before and quite impatient.

"I apologize for departing in that manner," said Asta, upon reentry. "There was an urgent matter in need of discussion."

"Where has your husband gone?" asked Freja.

"He went to attend to it."

Cilla sashayed to her side and linked their arms together, pressing her soft body so close to hers that she blushed. The coquettish noblewoman pressed her dark violet lips together into a smile.

"I hope he is treating you well, princess," she whispered, tightening her hold on her arm. "I would not like it one bit if he so much as neglected you."

"Yes, yes, she is such a delicate flower that she would wither in an instant if ignored," commented Freja, joining them. Kay followed close behind. "How are you, princess?"

"I am well."

Kay leaned forward, drinking in every contour, blemish, and freckle on her pale face. "You are looking quite beautiful, princess," he said, straightening. "Not to say you weren't before, but I do believe married life suits you."

Asta touched her face unconsciously, flushing. "Please don't tease me, Lord Åkerman."

Kay laughed. "A woman should be told she's beautiful at all opportunities."

"Oh? Where is my compliment?" asked Cilla, playfully biting her lip.

Freja elbowed him. "Enough with the flattery."

Cilla pouted. "You certainly know how to ruin the mood."

Finn joined them, his graying blond hair slicked back. "What guarantee do we have that the king is dead?"

Asta tensed. "You will have to take my word for it until his body arrives from Corrin. If you wish to confirm it for yourself then, I invite you to do—"

"You should be wary, princess," said Agda, who walked from across the room with Caj. "Do not let yourself be manipulated by that new husband of yours. Can you be certain this _death _is not another ploy of your father's orchestrated by the Kou Empire?"

Kay laughed. "But that sounds so silly."

"In what form?" snapped Agda.

"It's unfounded," said Caj. "Princess Asta will inherit the throne as she was meant to do."

"Well, forgive me for being skeptical, but I do not endorse any alliance that was bridged by Hákon."

"We cannot deny that the Kou Empire has helped Ione," said Asta, reminded that she needed to rid the Ionian House of such thoughts.

"It is also impossible to say that their intentions are good natured," said Freja. "Our country offered the Kou Empire little in the line of benefit. You were likely not the most desirable choice to marry into the imperial family."

She inhaled and exhaled deeply.

"That is no way to speak to your queen, Lady Tjäder," criticized Gry.

"She is my niece and I worry for her."

"Her station is far above yours and you should learn to respect that."

Freja grimaced. "You should learn to stay out of this."

"Please," Kay said, hands up in a calming gesture. "We should be getting along, not bickering. The princess, after all, invited us here for quite the treat."

"Right, so when is lunch?" asked Caj.

"We have more important matters to discuss than lunch," argued Agda. "For one, what will happen to the Ionian House? Will you dissolve it? Where is your loyalty? With Ione or with the Kou Empire? Why have you been chosen to be queen when the Kou Empire is notorious for swallowing up their conquests?"

"You will have your answers at a later date," she said, hoping her response would keep them at bay. "Until then, I ask for your patience."

It did, surprisingly.

Following a rather peaceful dissolution to their meeting, the Ionian nobles agreed on a day's hunt at Agda's suggestion. Everyone participated for the most part with the exception of Caj, who hated horse riding, Rolf Ljung, who disliked the wielding of weapons against animals, and Ylva, who was not versed in the craft and uninterested in learning it. Together with an individual guard each, they made up a group of ten, but split up after Cilla proposed a contest that pitted nobles against guards in which the group with the more successful hunt emerged victorious.

Asta followed tracks with Gry, who observed her mostly. She spoke very little, but was kind to her in a way that made her feel as though she were a delicate flower in need of nurturing.

Kay and Freja were naturals when it came to catching small game. Agda knew the forest so well that she understood where to find certain animals without the need of tracking any. Finn stayed close to Agda, but remained mindful of everyone. Cilla met up with Asta and Gry during several occasions, remaining with them until their hunt concluded at sundown. The contest resulted in the guards' victory when they returned with one of the wild boar that plagued the tranquil province.

Kouen rejoined them as many were departing. Asta invited them to stay overnight and leave the castle after a night's rest replenished their energy, though only a few accepted her offer. Kay, Agda, and Freja lived in the surrounding provinces and they did not mind returning to their homes later in the evening, but Finn decided to leave early to ensure he arrived home before nightfall made it difficult to travel. Asta asked the castle's servants to prepare the guest rooms in the western wing for them and joined them for dinner inside a smaller dining room with her husband at her side.

Kouen did not separate from her since he joined them. She found it odd that she did not mind his presence or semi-polite conversation. He did find a way to call her an idiot once, though it was better to say he alluded to it. She noticed belatedly that they were being watched keenly by the Ionian nobles, analyzing in depth with their hawkish eyes and racing thoughts. By then, she made sense of her husband's surprising attentiveness, though it was a small effort, as he acted no different from any other time.

Except there was one particular detail that differed from what she considered ordinary behavior—he made it obvious that he would sleep at her side. At the surprising development, Bo turned to Asta with a secret smile, likely praising her for whatever effort she conjured up in her mind that could have convinced her husband to sleep with her.

Kouen dismissed their attendants. Asta latched onto Bo and pleaded with her to stay in a long, unintelligible whisper. Bo demanded that she behave while snatching her arm from hers and bowed deeply to them both, bidding them a good night.

Asta met his eyes accidentally and lowered her gaze. She walked to the table in the center of the room where her attendants had left her shift draped over an armchair.

"Do you mind?" he asked as he removed his sword and belt.

She jumped with the sound of his voice. "Mind?"

"My presence."

"No, no I—"

Kouen stepped in front of her and she walked backward into the armchair.

"Do I offend you?" he asked, deadly serious.

"No," she answered, her voice a little loud.

"Why is it that you always seem eager to run away?"

"I don't!" she defended, nervously. His expression was unchanged. "I'm sorry."

"Do you not trust me?" he demanded, sounding annoyed.

She shrunk. The urge to run increased.

"It isn't that!"

He was right before. She did want to run from him. However, it was not for the reasons he believed. She found him a little intimidating. She felt small in his presence and quite insecure as a result. She felt bombarded by her lingering feelings for Johan, her desire to make her marriage a working partnership, the expectation for her to become a good wife, her father's death, and the Ionian House. She experienced more pressure than she could handle.

"Then what is it?" he snapped.

Asta's blue eyes welled with tears. "You're too scary!"

He stared at her blankly. "I will leave you."

"Why?"

He took a step away from her and she worried about what that meant for her people.

"If you are frightened of me, there is no point in me being here," he said, taking his sword from the foot of the bed.

"I'm sorry!" Bo would hate her if he divorced her over something this silly. Asta blocked his way and grabbed onto his robes. Her heart hammered in her ears, tears rolled down her face. "Don't go. I promise I'll be a good wife. Don't leave me."

He arched an eyebrow. "What?"

"I'll be a good wife. I'll be the best wife you'll ever have, so please don't divorce me," she cried, eyes sealed shut.

There was a pause.

"I was leaving the room."

Asta looked at him, feeling a bit foolish. "Oh."

He removed her hands from his clothes and walked past her to the door of his solar. "Good night."

Bo would kill her tomorrow morning for ruining the opportunity. She clenched her hands into tight fists and summoned up her courage as he started to close the door to his solar.

"Kouen!" she called.

He paused.

"Don't."

"I am not divorcing you," he deadpanned.

Her face flared. "Not that."

He leaned against the doorframe. "What is it?"

"Stay here," she blurted. The heat continued to rise to her face. "I thank you for allowing me the space, but I think we should do everything we can to make this work."

She never expected that to work, but surprisingly, it did. Kouen walked up to her once more.

"Do you understand what your invitation means?"

She gulped. "I am your wife and you are my husband. I won't fight you—"

"I won't bed you if you are even a little unwilling," he interrupted. "You can refuse me and I can refuse you. There are no laws demanding I take you for the validity of this marriage."

She nodded. His proclamation relaxed her.

With her understanding, Kouen returned to undressing and he changed into something comfortable to sleep in.

Asta, though embarrassed to be seen naked again, quietly tugged off her dress and threw it along with her corset onto the armchair before pulling her shift on over her head. She glanced off the side of her shoulder and found Kouen tying the sash around his plain robe.

"Are you finished?" he asked, catching her staring.

She walked to his side, her eyes fixed on the sword he carried with him everywhere. She touched it briefly, her fingertips brushing the black scabbard. "You never take your sword off, not even in the castle," she said, "Are you wary of an arrack on your life?"

"It is important to me."

"Oh."

"Did you expect any other reason?"

"No, I was only curious," she admitted. "You wander the castle with armor and a sword. It was a little odd. Only the Castle Guard holds weapons. Well, my father did on occasion, but he only did so to flaunt his power." She stole a glance at his face and worried that she was rambling. "I, uhm, sorry…I don't mean to bore you with talks of my father. You don't have to listen to me."

She climbed onto the bed and sat on the edge.

"How did you find the Ionian House?"

She stared at the rug on the floor. "I want more time to form an opinion."

"Did something about them appear different to you?"

"No, not exactly," she said quickly. "They bicker every time they come together. The last time had been our…it was our…it was during our proxy marriage. Cilla, I mean, Lady Strand threatened to kill Caj, uhm, Lord Öman. Lady Hult spent the entire night arguing with my father. She hated him." She paused, bringing her hands together. "They are curious about you. Actually, about ninety percent of the conversation was about yourself and the Kou Empire."

He said nothing in response. He placed his sword atop the center table with another piece of his armor. The rest of his clothes he left with hers, draped on the same armchair. He joined her in bed shortly and they exchanged looks.

Asta could think of a million ways to divert his attention elsewhere, but she read the atmosphere and though nervous as she was, she was willing because he made an effort with her. It was becoming apparent that he was doing more than she initially gave him credit.

Be dutiful.

Those words came to mind as she scooted closer to him. Perhaps, she was taking on everything in an incorrect manner, but she had no guidance to help her all the time. She would have to make her mistakes.

"Are you certain?"

Asta nodded. Her face was red. "My bruises still hurt, so could you please…not so…"

"I understand."

He reached over, his large hand on her sore thigh, and pulled her swiftly onto his lap. Nervous butterflies fluttered in her stomach and her ears heated. She admitted, to herself, that it scared her a little to do it again because their first experience had not been the greatest and she swore she would not try it again. However, it bothered her to think she could do nothing for her country when she had been married to him. That already meant she had done something, but whining about it solved nothing. She felt weak and unimportant. She decided to trust him. She accepted him. If she could see through to his true intentions, perhaps, she could do something. She would not be able to do this if she allowed their marriage to fail. He would never open up to her completely if he did not recognize her as a person that he could speak to because she wanted to be that person.

She had to think about the Kou Empire too, even though she knew the Ionian Kingdom longer.

Admittedly, she did not think her actions were quite as relevant. She was a child masquerading as an adult in a game full of dangerous players. Her naivety would be her undoing. Her trusting nature would lead to her death. Maybe she was going about it the wrong way.

Asta rose on her knees as he stripped her naked. A little shudder went through her as the cold air hit her back.

If she was honest, she was curious, too. Brita assured her it would get better. Everyone that had offered her their opinion on the matter boasted on how wonderful a thing intercourse was because it felt better than the most exhilarating thing she had ever done. She was skeptical, but curious.

Asta anticipated it would be pleasurable when she found herself at the mercy of his touch. Her body melted against his, her face pressed against his neck. She heaved and moaned, her chest rising and falling in the same rhythm as his fingers thrusting inside her. Her entire body trembled, twitched every time he pressed in deep. It felt strange, but it was a good strange. It was pleasant. As her back arched and another feeling overcame her, he slowed his movements, drawing out the pleasure that left her limp against his body.

She sat up on his lap, pale hair clinging to her face, and felt him hard underneath her. Her body was flushed pink and it grew a darker shade as she watched him undress. As soon as he entered her, the pleasure turned to pain.

She tensed. Tears sprung in her eyes. She felt stuffed and that made it difficult for her to move. She clung to him, burying her face in his shoulder as she breathed noisily, groaning and flinching with every shallow thrust. She told herself not to trust another person that said it would get better because it had not. She forgot that for a moment it had.

Once he switched their positions, pushing her down against the soft pillows, things went quicker, but they did not end without tears. She complained openly. He slowed his pace, but the agonizing burn of their union made it impossible to enjoy either fast or slow. He stopped at one point, removing himself from her. She covered her face, ashamed of her tears and apologized. She took several shuddering breaths before asking if they could continue. He shook his head.

Asta's insides throbbed long after they finished. She sat quietly beside him with her legs drawn up to her chest and her hands flat against the top of her knees, dressed once more in her thin shift. He sat with his back against the headboard, eyes closed. His breathing evened after some time of careful observation. She thought he was asleep.

"You are too tense," he said bluntly.

"It hurts," she complained. "I can't stop being tense."

"You're too small."

"I can't help that either."

He opened his eyes to look at her, unimpressed. It was not as if she could make herself bigger on cue to suit whatever his tastes were and she certainly was not going to stop being tense so long as it hurt.

She frowned and turned away, announcing to him that she would go to sleep. She burrowed under the blankets and closed her eyes. Johan's face flashed in her mind. She folded her legs and clenched her small hands into fists. Her body shook with emotion. She swallowed it down, afraid of crying. She didn't want to ruin things because she felt guilty about sleeping with her husband.

She was not stronger than her guilt. Tears slid down the side of her face. She cried silently for several minutes. She thought about her relationship with Johan again from start to finish. He had been so important to her. He had been the world. Her heart ached for him. She still felt butterflies in her stomach at the thought of his kiss.

Had she been so naïve?

Exhaustion pulled her under into a dark dream world filled with ashen figures whirling in circles through the corridors of her castle. As they spun, specks of their flakey skin fell and filled the corridors with white ashes. She touched them and they fell apart. With white bone dust left in her wake, she moved until the long corridor reached its end. A monstrous throne of skulls sat between obsidian carvings of horned men. A figure in white sat atop the throne and upon meeting her eyes, her blood ran cold. There was an unnatural light to its electric blue gaze. It rose from its seat and walked to her shedding ashes that sparked and crackled as they fluttered to the floor. The sound of heeled boots walking along hard ground bounced off the stone walls.

The figure stopped before her and from its head took the ivory crown, a circlet of tangled vines and frozen flowers. As it presented it to her, darkness crept at her back, engulfing them in its cold embrace.

She reached for the crown and it dissolved in her hands.

"_Asta_."

Asta woke up that morning before Bo arrived. Kouen was getting dressed when she sat up. He looked in her direction briefly.

"My father is here," she said absently.

Kouen returned his attention to her when a knock at their door filled the room.

"Come in," he beckoned.

Bengt entered after bowing lowly. Asta frowned and hoisted the blankets up over her chest the instant their eyes met. Joa padded into the room with a low meow and jumped onto the bed with her. The large tabby made himself comfortable beside her. She ran a hand across his soft fur. He was cold, which meant he slept outside.

"Excuse the disturbance," said Bengt politely. "I received word that the king's body arrived at port. He is being transported to the castle as we speak."

Asta felt Kouen's eyes on her as she pet Joa, who purred delightedly. A part of her was not ready to face her father's corpse, another part wanted to get it over with so the next chapter of her life could start.

"Princess Asta," called Bengt. "Preparations for his funerary rites will be finalized tomorrow morning." He produced a small journal from his robes and opened it up to a bookmark he placed between pages. "Once you decided upon a date, please inform me."

"A date?" asked Asta.

"For the king's send off." He snapped his book shut. "Also, I need a date for your outing."

"My outing?"

"To central Astoria. To tell the people. We need to inform them so that they may gather."

She nodded. "Thank you, Chamberlain Bengt."

"Anything, princess."

Inside, she felt a bit empty, but her mind was crowded.

**BLUEBLOOD SCORIA **| END


	12. (05) Fatal Paragon - Pt 1

**FIVE**: Fatal Paragon

* * *

**House Öman**

The noble lineage of House Öman was established when Toril Öman, a brilliant wanderer, anchored her trade ship in Ione's solitary port and called for an audience with the queen. Having been of known fame, the queen's consort met with her and listened to a trade proposal written up by the Cluster Kingdom of Lorah. Attracted to the rumors of mines filled with black, indestructible ores, the king of Lorah wished to reopen trade with Ione after it was conquered by the warrior tribe.

Toril bridged communication between her king and the Ionian queen, resulting in a willingness to acclimate back into the Cluster system that had been established before Io's conquest. The treaty written up by both the Lorah king and Ionian Queen paved way for the other Cluster Kingdoms to reach out to reestablish previously severed connections, realizing that the warrior tribe had more to offer than Ione's previous occupants did, who were at war more than they were at peace.

Once a successful route to trade with the Cluster Kingdoms had been established in Ione, thanks to Toril's vast knowledge of commerce, the Ionian queen offered Toril Öman a position among the elite. She asked for one thing in return, aid in expanding their trade beyond the Cluster.

Toril accepted.

Prior to Hákon's rise to power, Ione boasted steady connections in commerce. Their connections beyond the Cluster fell apart as soon as Hákon banned the trade of black ore and weapons made from them. The Cluster eventually forbade any form of exchange to and from Ione except the Kingdom of Baryon, who continued to support Ione until Hákon invaded with the might of his military.

The Öman Province sits on a large harbor south of Astoria. The noble family supervises commerce (with few exceptions that are taken care of by the royal family) and provides businesses an opportunity to trade with the Cluster Kingdoms and overseas beyond them.

Currently with the help of the Kou Empire's envoy, Yun, new trade routes to and from the Kou Empire have been established. They were only recently turned over to the current head of House Öman to manage.

Caj Öman is the current head of House Öman.

**House Strand**

The Strand family arrived to Ione on a trade ship pursuing opportunity in a new land. Ione was a goldmine to Oliver Strand, a business savvy man, who got his start helping people start organized businesses. He helped the Ionian queen establish a system that developed a solid economy and provided small businesses with a strong foundation for growth. Oliver went onto create several guilds throughout Ione that overtime evolved into profession-based markets that function hand-in-hand with House Öman and House Ljung.

House Strand manages all businesses and the country's money flow through the largest bank in Ione. Among the noble families, they are the richest and most influential.

Cilla Strand is the current head of House Strand.

Strand Province sits south of Astoria, nestled between the Tjäder and Öman Provinces (vertically speaking).

* * *

**xl**: I am back! So soon? Yes! Warnings for violence in the next chapter. I feel I should have given a warning about all the physical violence that goes on in this. I wrote it in the beginning, but these episodes are becoming a little more aggressive...so yes. Keep that in mind.

Thank you to these fabulous people for leaving reviews: **Diclonious57**, **Skye65**, and **Unlimited Power**.

Enjoy the chapter.


	13. (05) Fatal Paragon - Pt 2

**FATAL PARAGON** |

{ **i** }

Asta thought there would be a sense of urgency that would take her to her father. She imagined throwing herself on his stiff body as she had with her mother, crying inconsolably, but the idea made her nauseous. She thought she would have a way to handle the current situation when it showed up, but she wasn't ready for it. In fact, she was afraid of it. Her reaction terrified her.

What emotion would his corpse provoke? Would she cry again or had she shed all of her tears? Would she be indifferent?

She did not want to know the answer to any of those questions. There were too many worries in her mind to add another. She prioritized the living. The dead could wait.

"I will make the announcement in two days' time," Asta told Bengt, who struggled to make note of the date with his injured hand. "My father's funeral will be held in another two days. Be sure all preparations for it are done before then."

"The commissions will be completed before then," said Bengt. "You have nothing to worry about in that front." He eyed her disapprovingly. "Would you like me to write you something for the announcement? I would not want for my king's death to be announced in a cold, indifferent manner."

His words hit the intended target. She was hurt. She fidgeted with discomfort, but stood firm.

"I…you cannot speak to me in that manner."

Bengt's lips quirked up at the ends. "Oh? What can you do? Will you order one of your servants to harass me? Perhaps, you'll ask them to beat me and teach me a lesson. Or maybe, maybe you will ask one of the Olander siblings to kill me. It must be nice to know that you have so many people that you can rely on."

Her first reaction was to cry. The tears in her eyes blurred his smirking face from her sight.

"Please do as I asked, Chamberlain Bengt," she said tremulously. "Excuse me."

Bengt snatched her wrist and jerked her back into place. "You tell that caretaker of yours to watch herself."

"What?"

The chamberlain shoved her back hard furiously. She fell hard on her backside. She hit all her bruises and shrunk reflexively, crying out. She tensed, anticipating the worse. Tears leaked from the edges of her eyes.

She turned over as the chamberlain cast a shadow across her fallen body. His fingers tangled into her hair and he forced her head back. Her hands shot up to his hand, fingernails digging into his skin.

"Let go!"

"I will not be made a fool of by the likes of you, whore." He threw her back to the ground. "Even your mother would be ashamed by what you've—"

She sat up swiftly. "Shut up!"

Bengt slapped her across the face, knocking her down again. He let out a hearty laugh.

"You are pathetic," he spat.

Asta rose on her feet slowly long after Bengt stormed away from her side. She did not understand that man's hatred for her. She could not fathom how anybody had the capacity to be as cruel as he had been.

"Princess?"

She startled and turned to find Cilla in her face. "You scared me!"

Asta reached up to dry the tears from her face, but Cilla pressed a handkerchief to her cheeks and dried them. "What is this?" asked Cilla, concerned. "Why are your eyes full of tears and your appearance disheveled? Have you fallen? Did someone hurt you? Tell me, princess, so that I know what I can do for you."

She shook her head. She refused to speak about Bengt's treatment of her.

"Your cheek is red," said Cilla, turning her face gently. "Did you fall? Look at you, your dress is all dirty!"

The tone of worry made it so easy for Asta's defense to fall. She covered her mouth the instant a sob escaped it and her shoulders shook with the need to release. Her watering eyes gave in and let the tears roll down her cheeks. She urged her fragile heart to resist the warm comfort of sympathy because she did not want to receive it from a member of the Ionian House, no matter how kind and empathetic they appeared. She barely knew any of them.

They were passing acquaintances. Speaking to them yesterday had been daunting because every step forward that she took with the Ionian House was a risky dance in a den of hungry lions. It proved how small and insignificant she truly was. Everyone was leagues above her and she had little hope of catching up as quickly as she needed.

"It's okay, I'm okay," said Asta, teary and aching. "I stepped on my dress and I seem to have hit"—she feigned amusement—"my face too hard. Look at me, I'm crying. It's ridiculous. It's stupid."

She forced her laugh to last longer.

Cilla smiled, continuing to pat her cheeks dry. "You should be more careful in these long dresses."

Asta nodded. "I thought you left earlier with the others."

"I considered it," said Cilla, placing the handkerchief in her hand. "Ultimately, I wanted to confirm our king's death. Have you gone in to see him? Ah, I apologize, that appears to be a bad question. Of course, you have gone in to see him."

She visibly stiffened, squeezing the handkerchief tight. "No, I, uhm, haven't. I planned to go after I talked to Chamberlain Bengt." She offered the noble a smile. "Thank you for coming all this way to meet me."

"You did not think we would show?" asked Cilla.

"After what my father has done, I must be honest, I did not."

"It was a silly thought to have. You are our last hope."

"Last?"

"Honestly, I worried you would elope with Commander Ek and leave us behind, though admittedly, that might have been a much better fate than the Kou Empire," said Cilla, shocking her. "Oh? Did I say something strange?"

"I don't understand," Asta lied. "Commander Ek and I were—"

"Forgive my bluntness, your majesty, but I do believe the entire kingdom was aware of your feelings for Commander Ek," said Cilla. "I do not blame you, of course. He was beautiful and very charming."

Her stomach gave a nervous flip. "Please, you cannot—"

"You have nothing to worry about."

She took a risk by trusting her word. "Thank you."

"Before I go, I want to make one thing clear to you," she told her, standing up close. "I support you. I _want_ you to be queen. However, I do not trust the Kou Empire."

"You should not say such things, Lady Strand."

"They are an aggressive country—"

"We are an aggressive country."

"We weren't."

"Io came with her tribe from a distant place and conquered Ione." She understood the circumstances that came about from the warrior tribe's initial arrival to Ione and she supported it to a certain extent, but she did not see how different they had been from the Kou Empire.

Cilla took her shoulders firmly, hurting her in the process. "Stop making excuses for your father and husband! They are no different! They are no better! What does the Kou Empire want from us? What do they gain from your crowning?"

"Please," Asta said gently, afraid. "Lady Strand, please, say no more." She reached to take her hands from her shoulders. She could not protect her if she continued to speak in the heat of anger. "I promise that I will do everything that I can for Ione, but I cannot say that it will be without the Kou Empire's aid. I did not ask to be married into the imperial family, but I was."

She inclined her head to the noble.

"Have a safe trip home, Lady Strand."

Cilla bowed respectfully. "Forgive me for burdening you, your highness."

Asta waited for Cilla to leave to walk to the chamber where her father's body was temporarily housed. A single guard stood in place beside the tall oaken double doors holding a spear in his left hand. She paused before them and reached for the metal handle with a shaky hand. She stopped herself and closed her eyes.

No.

She refused to see him.

Asta returned to her bedchamber. Bo screamed when she saw the state she was in.

"What was it now?"

She smiled bashfully. "I tripped."

Bo approached her. She eyed her critically and tucked a strand of blond hair behind her ear. "How did you get so clumsy?"

"I promise to be careful."

"You must be. It won't do for you to be tripping everywhere and hurting yourself. You'll end up with welts and bruises. Look at your cheek, it's red."

She winced when Bo touched her cheek. Her caretaker frowned.

"It stings."

Bo shook her head disapprovingly. "Come, I'll help you get into a new dress."

Asta followed her into her boudoir.

"Have you gone to your father?"

"No."

"No?" She appeared surprised, but went on to search through the trunks for another dress. "Well, I suppose you will go when you are ready."

She appreciated her understanding, but as she waited for Bo to help her into another dress, Asta wished she could fight back. When Bengt threw her to the ground the first time, she had been paralyzed by the fear of what other pain he thought worthy of inflicting. She questioned his anger, his hatred, and tried to find reasons for it. She never did anything to him. She lashed out to him before, but that was in front of others because she knew he would not be able to do anything to her. That was reckless of her. Too impulsive.

She calmed her fluttering heart with a deep breath and undid the buttons on the back of her dress.

"If there is something that worries you, I am here if you need someone to confide in."

"Something that worries me?" asked Asta absently.

"Anything at all. I will listen."

"Thank you, Lady Bo."

Bo gestured for Asta to raise her arms and bent down in order to roll her dress up. As she rose, she tugged it off from Asta's head and set it aside in order to redress her with the other.

"Do try not to get this one dirty," said Bo.

"Could I leave the castle?" asked Asta.

"Not before breakfast, I hope. It should be up in another hour. The cooks send their apologies."

"After breakfast?"

"Leave to do what?"

"I want to visit Brita in the Åkerman Province."

Bo stayed silent a moment too long and Asta braced herself for rejection. "I do not believe that is a good idea, princess," she said. "I think you should think about what doing so would signify at a time like this. You should be in mourning and at your father's side."

Asta saddened, gutted by the refusal. She tried to remain hopeful knowing there were others in the castle that she could speak to, but it was times such as these that she wanted to speak to someone about Bengt. She believed if she told anyone within the castle about his abusive tactics, they would do something impulsive and it would lead to disastrous results. Brita would advise her. She would not allow herself to be led by her feelings.

"You're right. I should stay at his side."

She could not tell Bo out of fear that she would inform Kouen. She hated to imagine what would become of that. She feared that it would result in the realization that her worth was less than assumed.

She fought back tears.

Bo approached her. "Princess? Did I say something to offend you? I apologize, I—"

Asta covered her face. "Don't."

A tear streaked down the side of her cheek.

"Princess."

The air grew a little colder.

"I am a little overwhelmed," said Asta, cleaning her face with the sleeve of her dress. "I'm pathetic. I'm sorry you were assigned to deal with such a sad excuse for a princess, Lady Bo."

Bo never received the opportunity to respond. Asta did not prepare to listen to what she might say. She took the quickest route out of her bedchamber and ran away to shouts of her name echoing at her back. She worked her aching muscles as she ran up the winding stairs of the eastern tower. She rushed up against the door, pressing against it before sliding down to the ground.

Her father had sealed off the tower a short while after her mother's death. He had had her things transferred to a new room and had scoured her mother's things, disposing of all that he deemed unnecessary and leaving everything else trapped inside. Once he had done so, he had thrown the key into the Hult Forests. She had searched for it desperately for days before Bo had arrived from the Kou Empire. Her new caretaker had put a quick end to her outings.

Asta wished she could sit among her mother's things at the very least. She could talk to the open space if she was no longer there to listen. She could not leave the castle, so she wanted to surround herself with her mother's memory, but she could not make it past the door.

She pulled at the door and the lock held it tight, unyielding. She sobbed, desolate. Her heart crumbled. She hated her useless self. She could do nothing. She could help no one. She lived her sheltered, luxurious life with a parent that loved her and another that was purposely indifferent to her because she was perceived as a threat. The people around her loved her, except Bengt. She did not understand Bengt. He treated her poorly for as long as she could remember, but he had never put his hands on her until her father's departure.

The flash of anger in his eyes frightened her. She knew it would not disappear unless she ceased to exist.

She could not imagine living with him long. She would not last. She was already failing at it.

"Help me, mother. _Please_."

{ **ii** }

Bengt informed her over breakfast that people were gathering in Astoria from around Ione and reminded her that her aunt would arrive early tomorrow morning to escort her with what she called a "_proper_" security detail. Asta flinched when he approached her side, drawing Bo's hawkish eyes to her. Asta hated that she cowered in his presence. That made it obvious for Bo to suspect that something went on between them and she did not seem pleased by it.

"I do not like how that man looks at you," commented Bo, a short moment after his departure. "I shall have him replaced immediately."

"Please don't feel like you need to do that," said Asta, worried of the consequences of such a notion. Nobody stood up to Bengt in the castle because he was held in such high regard by her father. The first time anyone did call him out, the person that did so was skewered through the chest on the spot.

"You are too nice."

Asta smiled. "I'm sorry."

"It is a good thing."

"Thank you."

"But it also a bad thing," she added. "People take advantage of nice people."

"Not everyone would."

"That is a commoner's way of thinking. You are a princess. You have more at stake than a person beneath you."

"I have lost everything I could," she said, wavering. "I'm not a very good princess."

"What do you view as a _good _princess?"

"At this time?" she asked.

"Yes, at this time."

"Someone that would not have been afraid to challenge the Kou Empire," said Asta, exhaling. She noticed a change in Bo's expression. She could not discern it if it was displeasure or not. "Honestly, I doubt it would have made any difference, but at the very least people would see me as having had courage."

"Why do you doubt yourself?" asked Bo firmly.

"Do you want me to challenge the Kou Empire?"

"I would not recommend it."

Asta smiled softly. "I promise not to do it."

Bo frowned. She set her hands on her hips. "Princess, is something wrong?"

"No, nothing."

Her caretaker sighed, exasperated. "Very well. What are your plans for today?"

"I plan to stay here."

"No games with the soldiers today?"

"I do not feel like disturbing them."

"Very well." Bo bowed deeply and excused herself.

Asta returned to bed for the day. She barely touched breakfast that morning, and though her stomach was empty, she felt no hunger. She ate the bare minimal to give herself enough energy to get through the day. She figured she could sleep until she needed to make the announcement. She was not sure what she would say to the people.

She thought it would be a good idea to write something down to have an idea before going to stand before them. The last thing she wanted was to draw a blank in the middle of something important or cry.

What were the right words for this situation? What did her father tell the people after her mother's death? Did he have them gather or simply spread the word? Had he bothered?

He made no such announcement in the castle. Word spread quickly on its own. Everyone in the castle was aware of her mother's illness. Most were under the impression that she had been confined in the eastern tower for their safety. The queen was contagious. A few were immune to the disease, like herself, Brita, and the physician. The lies were elaborate when it came to removing her mother. It meant erasing her from existence. If people forgot her, her father won.

Not one person forgot her, but they did choose to turn a blind eye to her. The consequence of rebellion had been seared into their heads with the massacres that followed Asta's abduction. With her father dead, the Ionian House could stage their revolt; though she hated to think the idea was in any of their heads given the Kou Empire's reputation.

Asta closed her eyes, reeling from the chaos in her mind. She thought about words—appropriate strings of them and inappropriate ones to avoid during her announcement. She tried to imagine the Ionian people as she wondered what expressions they would make, but all she saw was a blur of featureless faces. It reminded her of the dream with the disintegrating crown. Her skin prickled and the small hairs on the back of her neck rose at the mere thought of it.

She shuddered, chasing the memory away.

The sound of booted feet approaching her bed frightened her. She never heard the door opening. She turned expecting to see one of the soldiers posted outside, but saw the room was empty every way she looked. She sank back into the pillows, hugging one close. The faint scent of it made her think of Kouen. She replaced it with one from her back because the idea of intimacy provoked guilt in her.

She missed Johan.

Asta stared into the empty side of the bed and imagined him lying beside her, arms folded under his head. She pictured his beautifully sculptured profile, his long lower lashes, the runic tattoos along the shaved side of his head, and the messy tuft of blond hair pushed out of his face.

They used to sit together on the foot of her bed and talked in whispers. The first time she felt the brush of his fingertips along her hand her stomach flipped. When he touched her face with surprising gentleness, her body trembled in anticipation of what would follow. She knew he would kiss her when he ran his thumb along her bottom lip. She thought she would melt when his lips moved against hers.

The memory of his kiss made her curl up and shut her eyes. Heat pooled in her lower abdomen. She dozed off and dreamt of his hands caressing her as their kiss intensified.

A knock startled her awake.

She sat up, pushing the pillow into her lap, and wiped the drool from her mouth. "Come in."

Vilhelm poked his blond head inside. "You are never going to guess who is here to see you."

"Who?"

He pushed the door open completely to reveal Brita.

Asta sprang out of bed and threw her arms around Brita. She burst into tears instantaneously.

"Oh, my sweet princess," said Brita, pulling away to lift her crying face. "Why are you crying?"

"I needed you," she cried.

"You are lucky Sigge found her outside the castle," said Vilhelm, jabbing this thumb over his shoulder to point at Sigge, who remained outside her bedchamber.

"Doing what?"

"I was making a delivery."

"I found her with Kåre," added Sigge.

"Thank you, Sigge."

Sigge smiled bashfully. "Anything, princess."

"Take advantage of her while Lady Bo is away," said Vilhelm, reaching for the door. "Excuse us."

Asta took Brita's hand and guided her to the bed after Vilhelm shut the door. Brita dried her tears, but the emotions were stuck in her throat. Her breathing was affected, littered with tiny shudders.

"How are you? I haven't stopped thinking of you since I last saw you."

"It's too much," said Asta. "Everything is too much—the Ionian House, Kouen, my father's death, Bengt, and the Kou Empire. I can't be strong, Brita. I can't."

"There, there." Brita reached out to embrace her. She rubbed her back in gentle circles. "What has gotten you so sad? You look terrible. It is so unlike you."

"Everything is so confusing. I don't know what to do. Every day I'm reminded of how useless I am." She drew back. Brita's hand moved to her arm and hurt the bruised flesh. She winced, but continued speaking, "I'm supposed to do this and then do that while also thinking of this and that and them. I have to be this and that. I'm supposed to be that, but this at the same time. It's too much for me because I can't be strong, I can't doubt the Ionian House, I can't be a good wife, and I can't bear to look at the people of Ione. And I don't know whom to trust even though I promised to trust Kouen. I'm afraid that I can't be the princess that this country deserves—no, I'm terrified knowing that I am not."

"What makes you say that?" asked Brita, alarmed.

"Every day I am reminded of what I lack."

"No, you shouldn't think that way. The people love you—"

"But what difference does that make?" she snapped. "That just means they expect more than I can give them! I don't want to be loved by the people of Ione. I can't do anything for them. This country belongs to the Kou Empire—"

"This country belongs to you," Brita affirmed. "This is your country and you _can _fight for it."

Asta shook her head with tears rolling down her face. She felt a suffocating urge to run—to realize the dream she and Johan built and explore the world for him. She couldn't do anything here that would make a difference in Kouen's careful planning of his country's takeover.

"This is their country."

"And you plan to just give up?" demanded Brita, jumping to her feet. Her attention wavered as she caught sight of something. She grabbed hold of Asta's robe and tugged it off her shoulder before Asta had the chance to put up a fight.

Brita exposed the purple-black contusions that marred her skin and her expression changed. She lifted her eyes to hers, narrowed and full of anger. "Did he do this to you?"

She panicked. "No!"

"How dare he lay his hands on you?" Brita jumped out of her seat, stomping to the door. "He is not getting away with this!"

Asta chased her, overcome by desperation. She grabbed a hold of Brita's arm. "He didn't! He is kind to me!"

"Do not defend him!"

She jerked free of Asta's grasp and opened the door so hard that it slammed into the wall. Brita snapped to Vilhelm and Sigge as Asta pursued her into the corridor, grabbing at her arm and repeating her words.

"Have you dolts been sleeping on the job? How could you let this happen?"

"Brita! Stop!"

"Let what happen?" asked Vilhelm, affronted.

"Nothing!" interjected Asta, crying furiously.

Brita practically ripped her robe to expose the bruising on her shoulder. There were fresh contusions from her last encounter with Bengt. The present bruises worsened after she collided with the stone floor and ached at the mere thought of their creation. A new feeling overcame her as she sank to the floor weeping, pleading Brita to stop. She felt humiliated. To be seen in the sorry state that she was in filled her with disgust. To hear no response made her heart sink to her stomach.

"You have one duty," Brita berated, "and that is to protect your princess when she cannot."

"I don't understand," said Vilhelm. "Carina did mention she fell off a horse a few days back."

"Is that what you told her, princess?" demanded Brita. "Is that the excuse you thought of? A few days means the bruises should have gone away, but these look fresh." When the older woman tried to point out the ones she referred to, Asta pulled away from her. "What other excuses have you made for him?"

"I fell from the stairs," said Asta. "Kouen, he would never—"

"What is the meaning of this?" shrilled Bo.

Asta shrunk.

"You! You too! You should be caring for her not allowing your prince to beat her!" yelled Brita.

"How dare you speak in such a manner of our prince?" asked Bo defensively. "He would never harm his wife!"

"How do you explain these bruises? Fell off stairs and off a horse! What else is there? Did she trip? When has she ever been so clumsy?" asked Brita.

Bo sucked in an audible breath, but remained silent. Perhaps, somewhere deep down inside, she suspected the bruises were forced upon her by another than by circumstance. The silence filled the corridor with tension.

Asta could not bear to look at any one, afraid of their pitying eyes.

"You knew about this?" questioned Brita slowly, approaching Bo in accusation. "You were aware this was happening, weren't you?"

"She fell off a horse," stated Bo, defensively.

"He didn't hurt me," whimpered Asta, holding her torn robe up to cover herself.

"Stop defending him, princess," snapped Brita. "He does not deserve your kindness."

"You have said your piece and have made unsightly accusations," said Bo, clearing her throat. "I will ask you to leave before I have someone throw you out."

Asta heard Vilhelm and Sigge whisper about it to one another, both trying to pinpoint a time for when it could have been possible. There were several voices in the background being carried towards her by the echo of the castle's corridors. She wanted to disappear.

"If I go, I will take her with me," stated Brita, challenging her caretaker.

"Ha! You think I will simply allow you to do such a thing?"

Asta no longer had a voice. She dissolved into tears.

"Do not think that I will take her from you alone? The Castle Guard is loyal to the princess and they will not stand by as her husband beats her, right?"

"Yes," came Vilhelm and Sigge's collected response.

Asta covered her mouth to silence her sobbing. She reached for control, but found it slipping faster than before.

"You are a dangerous one, Brita Grahn," said Bo.

Suddenly, like day to night, the atmosphere changed into a darker contrast than what it had been before.

"Who are you?"

Asta raised her head from her hands and turned to the sound of Kouen's voice. He stared at Brita indifferently while she glared at him. Vilhelm and Sigge filled the air with their hostility. Bo and the few attendants trailing after her sank into a deep bow to honor his presence. He tore his gaze from Brita to find Asta on the floor, clutching at her ripped robe.

"I don't care how you treat your wives in the Kou Empire, but you cannot come here harming an Ionian woman—a princess," accused Brita, standing strong.

"Kouen," sobbed Asta. She wanted to apologize to him.

Kouen walked several steps towards the brown-haired woman, unbothered by the glares he received from her guards. "You are the one harming her."

He went to Asta and bent forward to hoist her into his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck willingly, crying more because she felt ashamed it had escalated to the extent that it had.

"Get out."

"I am not leaving her here. She is not yours to do with as you please."

Asta knew that Brita would stand there and fight him if it meant getting her way. She admired her for it. She appreciated her spirit for as long as she had known her, but she had mortified her. She shouted to everyone within earshot that Kouen beat her black and blue. If it spread through the castle like her mother's death, it could leave it and fill the people with unnecessary thoughts.

"Get out!" shouted Asta. It hurt her to say the words that followed, but they needed to be spoken. She surprised herself in thinking about Brita's safety. That was her priority beside it all. "I don't want to see your face again! Leave!"

"Princes—"

"Vilhelm!"

"I cannot, princess, if what she—"

"It is not!" snapped Asta. "Now get her out of my sight!"

Vilhelm nodded. He reached for Brita's arm, but she jerked it away. Brita glared at her and it hurt Asta deeply, but she told herself that it was for her own benefit.

"I can leave on my own."

Brita stormed out. She never looked back to her.

Bo made quick work of chasing everyone out of the corridor. She relieved Vilhelm and Sigge of their duties for the rest of the day as she said, "Let this time cool your heads." They went reluctantly.

Kouen set her down on her feet inside their bedchamber next to the bed.

"I'm sorry," she blurted. "I'm sorry she said the things she did! She's not a bad person! She was with me almost my entire life and she's always worrying! She jumped to conclusions and I couldn't stop her! I tried, but I'm sorry for the inconvenience!"

He reached behind her and tugged at the disheveled coverlet to drape over her, saying nothing. His silence would have mortified her and while it intimidated her a little, she understood he did not use many words to express himself. Perhaps, it was in mutual silence that he appeared forbearing. She would hate to be in his position, accused of something as terrible as causing her harm when he had been patient and, in his own way, very kind to her.

She feared for Brita because she would not stay silent. She worried about Vilhelm and Sigge's opinions of Kouen because she grew up alongside them in the castle and they protected her. She knew Carina, Hua, and Elis could attest to her fall from a horse because they witnessed it, though those bruises had mostly healed. Even Kouen had seen her on the ground from her mother's library. He saw her on the floor after Bengt had thrown her down the stairs and Cilla found her after her last encounter with Bengt. The common factor was present in both instances of abuse, yet nobody suspected him. She lied for him afraid of it becoming worse than a fall. She understood never to provoke Bengt for that reason. She could not say she knew how far was too much for him and she did not want to risk finding out.

"If this reaches the House," she said, breathless. She looked at him, the realization sinking in deep. "And if they choose to spread this and it results in a…"

He nodded.

Asta seized the front of his clothes. "You said you would leave them to me! I'll speak to them! I'll tell them that it isn't true!"

"Your duty remains unchanged," he said evenly. "Protect the Ionian House doing as much as you can. If they, however, stage a revolt and attack any person of the Kou Empire, know that I will put an end to it."

She tightened her hold on him, keeping him from leaving. She sobbed, her heart hammered away with desperation. She could not ask him to stop because he gave her a window of time to calm growing tensions. She doubted her ability to make the Ionian House listen. If they wanted war, they would take whatever opportunity to wage it.

"Please."

Kouen took her hands and pried them from his clothes slowly. "Do what you can."

Asta watched him exit. Her knees were weak. They buckled under her slight weight and she sank into the ground. She fell forward with her hands planted on the floor and cried in self-loathing. Tears stained the cold floor underneath her palms as it dripped from her eyes.

The room's temperature dropped as the sky darkened with the approach of storm clouds. She heard the creak of the mattress behind her and a familiar clicking of the tongue.

"_Tsk, tsk, tsk._"

Asta's eyes widened, heart stopping. Though terrified, she glanced over her shoulder to see who sat in her bed. It was empty. All around her was vast empty space.

She dried her eyes as she stood. She rushed into her boudoir to tug on another outfit and out in a matter of minutes. She walked to her bedchamber door and opened it, peering out. She half-wished Vilhelm and Sigge were standing guard, but after their dismissal, she knew where she could find them. She thought it would be useful to clarify things with them and the rest of the Castle Guard. She knew that she did not want to be alone.

Asta walked into the barracks in the middle of a secretive conversation of which she was the central subject. Silence followed the awareness of her presence.

Carina released Vilhelm. They appeared to be arguing. She stomped across the room to meet her. "What the hell is going?"

"Is everyone here?" she asked quietly.

"Most of us," said Carina.

Vilhelm and Sigge walked to the forefront of the rest. She hated their sympathetic faces. She saw guilt register in their expressions as they whispered amongst themselves.

"Did he do something to you again?" demanded Vilhelm. "You should know that we don't care who he is."

"Please gather the rest of the Castle Guard," Asta ordered, her eyes were bright red from her tears.

"The few left outside are loyal to Bengt," said Sigge calmly.

She considered the consequence of including them—information reaching Bengt vs no information making it to him. She made her decision quickly and nodded in agreement. "Very well."

All at once, everyone spoke up. She stared at them all, taken aback by the same inquiry phrased twenty different ways by the thirty soldiers convening in the barracks.

"I told my stupid brother that you fell off a horse, but he's calling it a lie because Brita came and made a scene!" said Carina forcefully. "He's told everyone that Prince Kouen has been treating you badly even though I had to remind all of them that you were both sleeping in different beds up until recently."

Several exchanged embarrassed looks.

"Not to mention you can barely interact with the man!" continued Carina. "So why are you all here pretending as if our princess spends all day and night hanging around that man? He's holed up in Queen Ingrid's library with Slimy Bengt most of the time."

She appreciated Carina's support. She wished to express a little more about her circumstances, so the others would understand.

"Prince Kouen never harmed me," said Asta, seeing collective disbelief. Carina rolled her eyes. "Brita overreacted to the bruises on my arm and humiliated me by exposing them as she did. They are the result of my recent clumsiness." She hated the lie she conjured as she formulated it in her brain. "I fell off a horse, I fell down the final steps of the stairs, and I stepped on my dress yesterday, tripping. Carina, Hua, and Elis can attest to the horse-riding incident. Slimy Bengt was there when I fell down the stairs. Lady Strand found me shortly after I tripped. I cannot thank you all enough for expressing such care for a useless princess like me."

Vilhelm's eyes narrowed. She anticipated he would challenge her once more on the matter, but instead, he shocked her. "Slimy Bengt was with you when you fell down the stairs?"

Asta nodded. The memory of his grip on her arm before he threw her down plagued her head for a long minute.

"What were you doing before you tripped on your dress?"

"I went to ask Chamberlain Bengt to schedule my announcement and my father's funerary rites," she answered, seeing nothing quite suspicious about it.

The anticipation in the room was electric. Vilhelm's innocuous questions commanded their attention.

Vilhelm's expression transitioned from pensive to furious. The angry vein in the middle of his forehead surfaced and his green eyes snapped to hers.

"It was him, wasn't it?" asked Vilhelm.

"Who? Slimy Bengt?" questioned Carina.

Asta's face exposed her, but she tried her best to discourage the conversation. "It was only a coincidence, you can't—"

"Is this the reason Lady Bo asked me to watch you carefully?" asked Vilhelm.

"What?"

"Lady Bo took me aside and asked me to keep a closer eye on you. I was under the impression that she thought I was doing a terrible job at it, but I started to suspect something was up after Slimy Bengt got that wound on his hand and his general behavior around Lady Bo changed—"

"Damnit Vilhelm, we all know your deduction skills are fantastic, but get to the point!" snapped Carina, threatening her brother with her fist.

"Slimy Bengt did this to her," said Vilhelm.

"No, he didn't!" she denied. "Let us not make this worse. I came to clarify things about my husband and—"

"Did he?" demanded Vilhelm.

"Of course, he did," said Carina.

"Stop making assumptions!" shouted Asta. "The only person to blame for my bruises is me! We will leave it at that, understand?"

"We cannot allow anyone to bring you harm, princess," said Sigge. Others echoed in agreement, nodding.

"We are not talking about this anymore. Nothing has happened. Bengt is not to blame." Asta headed for the door. "If I find any one of you bothering Bengt, I will have you do the worst thing you could possibly think about. And if you don't think I know what you hate, prepare to be surprised."

Asta stormed out of the barracks and returned to her room. Her fisted hands were shaking. Her heart beat with the frequency of a hummingbird's and hoped that she cleared things up for Kouen. She prayed Vilhelm and the others did not do anything that would make Bengt suspect that the guards knew.

She leaned her back against the door about to sigh when it smacked her harder than she anticipated, forcing her out of the way as Bo poked her head inside.

"What are you doing behind the door?" asked Bo critically.

"Sorry."

"Do you need anything?"

"Just some peace."

"I will return at lunch time."

"Thank you, Lady Bo."

Bo exited.

Asta sat down in front of the fireplace at enough distance that she could barely feel the kiss of the flames on her skin. She closed her eyes. Please, she begged internally, please say nothing Brita.

Reopening her eyes to the flames dancing across the two pieces of log inside the hearth, the yellow tips of the fire appeared to sprout wings and fly. She exhaled, releasing the tension and the shudder clogged in her chest alas.

Deep down, she started to prepare for the worst.

{ **iii** }

Freja arrived that morning as she would any other—promptly, dressed in an impeccable coat, and irritated from the get-go. It took little less than half an hour's time of riding to reach the bustling city of Astoria, but Freja wanted to be there early. No Kou Empire soldiers would accompany her, though Kouen assured her that there would be some in the crowd. She dressed in deep greens and grays before she rushed out the door. Elis waited for her with her horse saddled and held the reins as she climbed atop it.

She thanked him as she took the reins from his hands.

"We are going, princess," called Freja, steering her stallion onto the dirt-packed road leaving the castle.

"Coming."

Asta followed her aunt's lead and fell into a gentle strut beside her horse. "Thank you for offering to escort me."

"You should make use of the people you will rule," said Freja. "Networking is key to ruling a kingdom. One does not simply rule it alone. Take your father and his chamberlain as an example. Your father imposed his horrid rule because he had someone vile advising him."

"Your statement makes certain implications about Bengt's relationship with my father," commented Asta. "Are you saying Bengt influenced my father?"

"Well, Bengt certainly did influence Hákon in certain things, but I cannot say that he is responsible for it all," clarified Freja. "You see, you did not know your father quite like I did. He came into the world believing that he was destined for more than a seat in the Ionian House. Honestly, there was no doubting that he was a perfect candidate for all the fortune in the world. He was militarily brilliant, charming, and ambitious. Every sane person shoved their daughters and nieces at him to marry. Your great-grandfather was no different. Hákon was not the type to waste an opportunity. He used people to get what he wanted. It did not matter how cruel or monstrous the deed."

"I know what he did, Lady Tjäder," said Asta politely.

She saw both sides of her father—the kind, charming one that treasured her and the cruel, monstrous one that tormented her for his own enjoyment.

"He murdered our father for the Tjäder Seat," Freja confessed. She sought no reaction from Asta. She appeared to have admitted it to remind Asta that she knew little. "I found him removing his head from his body. I watched him hold up our father's severed head in his bloody hands and admire his work."

Asta shuddered, disturbed by Freja's memory.

"Know that there was a side of my brother that you never saw." Freja's eyes met hers briefly. "Be glad that he is dead and that you will never see that part of him, but I stand by what I said before. He does not deserve to be glorified for his reign of terror. He leeched off the good faith of the people. Even with the Kou Empire, we have not met with much improvement."

"We are able to survive," argued Asta. "The Åkerman have seeds to plant and cultivate food. The Öman have reopened their trade ports. We are receiving more and more from the Kou Empire with each trade cycle. I am not saying that we had monumental change, but we are up on our feet again. The Vång mines are open once more and extraction of Ionian ore has started. Our economic situation is on the rise, the crown's debt to the Strand Bank has been paid with interest. There are more job opportunities for people outside of military service. Ljung reopened colleges just five months ago. Children are back in school and—"

"It must be wonderful to be as naïve as you are," interjected Freja.

"But these are facts! We could not have gotten as far as we have without the Kou Empire's intervention!"

"They are tactics! It gets better, the people get comfortable—some assimilate easily believing that it is for the good of the people and those that don't are crushed! You are too comfortable with the explanations that your husband has given you! You are too trusting! He is taking advantage of your good nature!"

Kouen said the same to her about them. He described her as a "target to people's ill-intent." Like he said, the Ionian House was aware of her weakness. No matter the argument, she retained her unfortunate position as an easy objective to control in order to achieve their ambitions.

"Are you not doing the same?" asked Asta.

Freja growled. "How could you accuse me of such a thing? I am your family!"

"Where were you then?"

Her aunt's grip tightened on the reins of her horse and stopped in the middle of the dirt path.

"What?"

Her powerful voice echoed through the hilled valley and the soldiers following close behind in full armored regalia stopped short. The Castle Guard halted in front of the army.

"I lived in that castle for seventeen years," she answered, doubling back. She guided her mare beside her aunt's horse. She met her aunt's pale blue eyes, the anger inside her boiling to the surface. "You avoided me in gatherings and only greeted me because it was the right thing to do. And suddenly my father is away and you ride up to the castle to check on me. I lived there for seventeen years and you never once asked if I was okay."

Asta took the brunt of Freja's manifested fury. The impact of her aunt's fist to her jaw knocked her off her horse. She dropped hard on her shoulder, hitting the side of her head hard with the recoil, and felt a sharp pain swept through her.

"Princess!"

Distantly, she heard the collective shouts of the ten Castle Guard members that she brought along with her. Asta dug her fingers into the dirt as she turned over. She bit back the pain, but it pierced her flesh unforgivingly.

She pressed her lips together to silence her cry and tasted blood. She touched the corner of her mouth, feeling grains of dirt and the sticky blood dripping from between her lips. She spat red into the ground; her jaw throbbed from the hit. She felt a burn against the side of her head from a cut just above her eyebrow. The blood that oozed from it ran down her right eye, turning her vision red. She closed it to keep it out.

Sigge ran to her side and helped her sit up. He touched her arm gently, causing her distress, and determined that it must have been sprained badly. She looked up to see the Olander siblings and the rest of the Castle Guard stood protectively around her.

Freja appeared shocked as she climbed from her horse. "Princess, I am—"

"Don't come any closer!" shouted Asta with furious tears in her eyes.

Vilhelm and Carina did not let her approach any further. She took it as an affront.

"Asta," called Freja. "You must understand, I did not—"

"Shut up!"

Somehow, Asta got on her feet, holding her numbed arm.

"I did not lie," she spat, "and you have the nerve to feel insulted! I am offended. I am hurt. You may be my aunt by blood, but you are not my family."

"Asta—"

"You are removed from your position as a representative in the Ionian House."

"Princess!" cried Freja, attempting to push through the Olander siblings, who threw her back. "You cannot do that!"

"I am princess of this country and I can do whatever I want! Now leave."

"Prin—"

"Leave!"

Freja stepped back, jerking out of the siblings' grasps. "You will regret this."

Asta withstood the pain until Freja mounted her stallion and left with her soldiers following close behind. She saw the group hesitated upon being ordered to return with her to the Tjäder Province. Once they disappeared over the hills, Asta slumped back against Sigge and cried.

Her guards crowded her, talking over each other in a panic. They were closer to the castle than the capital behind its ivory walls, but Asta insisted to continue their trip even though it meant bearing with the pain until they found a physician to treat her.

Vilhelm rode on ahead to find one. Another of her guardsmen took her horse back to the castle. Asta rode with Carina at her back, who caged her protectively in her arms, careful about harming her.

By the time they made it past the metal gates, Asta's vision had blurred at the corners and Carina pleaded for her to stay away. She was certain she passed out for a brief second, but everything around her showed that a significant amount of time had passed.

Asta awoke to a strip of moonlight illuminating the small room from a single square window. Vilhelm sat asleep in the chair beside the narrow bed. The furniture was sparse and made of dark wood. There were portraits hung on the walls with a few gold-wrought designs. A vase of white carnations sat on the small table beside her with a pitcher of water and glass.

She worried about the announcement. She missed her opportunity to speak to her people and assure them that they would be in good hands with the Kou Empire.

Thinking back, she inwardly whined. She could not believe she removed her aunt from the Ionian House. She did punch her off her horse, but she tried to apologize. She berated her actions. She should have thought it through completely. Instead, she let her impulses take over.

Her head hurt. Her throat was dry. Her right arm rattled her with tiny pains with every little movement. It was bandaged to keep it in place; her arm was folded in an angle over her torso while in a makeshift sling, a pink scarf tied into a bow at the base of her neck.

"Vilhelm," she croaked, startling herself.

Vilhelm opened his eyes slowly. He leaned forward, covering a yawn. He smiled down at her. "How are you feeling?"

"It hurts."

"It's a sprain only, but you hit your head on the way down and it knocked you out. We were a little scared you wouldn't wake up, but I'm happy that it wasn't that bad." Vilhelm laughed unconvincingly. "You also waged war on your aunt. Lady Bo is hysterical. Aghi spilled when she caught him returning your horse to Elis."

Asta covered her face with her left hand. She peeked at him between her fingers. "What about the people?"

"They worried about you after hearing about your accident. Many of them brought you gifts and flowers and their prayers to extinguish your pain," he told her. "Prince Kouen had Slimy Bengt make the announcement in your place. The ridiculous man cried as he told everyone the news and instead of crying, the crowd started chanting '_Queen Asta_' until he stomped away."

"I should apologize to them."

"You will have time to do so tomorrow morning when we return to the castle. Until then, rest up."

The following morning, Asta did chance upon the opportunity to apologize to the Ionian people as there were many waiting outside the physician's house leaving more flowers and gifts. After seeing them, she turned to Carina.

"Please fix my hair!" she cried nervously.

Carina spat into her hand, rubbed them together, and combed her fingers through Asta's unruly hair, pushing it out of her face as she expressed her disgust.

"That was gross."

"I didn't have any water on me, sorry," said Carina with a grin.

Vilhelm laughed beside her.

"Don't laugh!"

"Oh wait, you have some dirt right there." He pointed at her face.

Asta panicked. "Where?"

"Here, let me get it." He licked his thumb and managed to rub it across her cheek before she could get away. He and his sister burst out laughing.

"You are doing this on purpose!"

"Is it true?" called a man in silk clothing. She turned her attention to him. "Is it true the king is dead and that you will be queen?"

Asta approached him, as she did, the guards keeping him from moving further parted. He bowed deeply.

"Yes," she said, noticing the expectant faces of others in the crowd. "My father is dead and I will ascend the throne."

The people glanced at one another, their faces filled with joy, and they returned their attention to her. All of them dropped down to their knee and bowed respectfully. "As it was destined, Queen Asta of Ione."

Her heart swelled with emotion. She stared their hopeful faces as they looked up at her and knew that she wanted to protect that hope.

Asta received plenty of bouquets and tiny trinkets from several people. She asked one of her guards to stay behind to gather all the flowers and gifts given to her into a wagon offered by a merchant. She made certain to reward the merchant with a bag of gold, which he repeatedly refused, saying it was an honor to do it as a favor to her. She persisted until he left the castle with double.

Bo rushed into the foyer as servants were taking the flowers to be watered and arranged in vases that would be displayed around the castle. One look at her made her faint into the arms of Hua and Fu, but she recovered quickly.

"What misfortune!" she cried. "We are ruined, princess! Ruined!"

She knew where she was going with her exclamation.

"How will the prince bed your arm like that?"

"What's the problem?" asked Carina, half-laughing. "He already does all the work himself."

Asta's face turned red instantly.

Her guards roared with laughter, which incited Bo's ire.

"What are you lazing around for? Get to work!"

Bo practically chased them out of the foyer and back upstairs to their posts. Asta kept her eyes glued to the floor as the heat in her face increased. Their laughter went on strong until it faded as the distance between them grew.

"How are you feeling?" asked Bo, once it quieted down.

"It hurts."

"Good. Next time someone tries to punch you, you should hold onto your horse. Let this be a lesson for you."

Asta yawned, wincing. Her jaw was sore.

"I had a bath prepared for you. Come." Bo guided her towards the nearest staircase to reach the eastern wing. Hua and Fu followed. "I am proud of how you handled yourself. Honestly, I did not think you had it in you to remove your aunt from her position. Lord Åkerman sent a petition in the hopes that you will overturn your decision."

She thought about accepting it and doing so.

Hua helped Asta undress once they were back in her bedchamber. She was very careful. Fu aided her in bathing. Three of her attendants were preparing the bed for her. Another two brought up breakfast for her and were clearing the table. The rest of her attendants were telling her jokes to keep her energy up after Bo stepped out.

Bo returned with Kouen. Her attendants bowed deeply and filed out of the room after Bo signaled for them to do so. Asta prepared herself for the worst as he approached the tub.

"It will be problematic if you make it a habit to fall off horses."

"She punched me!" she complained.

"And you kicked her out of the Ionian House?" he asked calmly.

"She hit me," she stressed.

"Did you forget she is the Head Commander of your country's military?"

Asta turned away. "I will return her position. I only took it from her in a fit of anger and I shouldn't have."

"Ignore the petition."

"What?"

"Stand by your decision."

"But she's the head of the military."

"You have the Castle Guard and the Kou Empire at your back. Your father took almost all of the military to Corrin where they are currently under Werner Tjäder's command. Think about your position, and then consider hers. Refuse all petitions that ask for Freja's reinstatement and keep your eyes open for your enemies. They will emerge soon, especially if she was one of them."

Asta remembered her argument with Freja and gathered up her courage.

She swallowed thickly. "How do I know who is in the right?"

"What do your instincts tell you?"

She pressed her lips tight. She did not have an answer to that. She was confused most times. Her instincts weren't telling her much. She made the conscious decision to trust Kouen and allowed him to use her for what he presented would benefit the people.

However, she started to wonder what the better option would be. Should she fight along the hidden rebels for the freedom of their country? The alternative was to make assimilation easier for them.

"I don't know."

He said nothing in response.

{ **iv** }

Asta lingered outside the room holding her father's corpse, pacing from one end of the corridor to the other. The funerary rites would be tomorrow morning. The people could gather if they desired, though she did not expect any would. Regardless, her opportunity to be alone with him was this one. She would not come across another moment, but time was running out. It was now or never.

She hesitated at the entrance, aware of the guardsmen's watchful eyes, but grabbed hold of the handle. She breathed in as she turned it, pushing the heavy door open. She sidestepped into the room, releasing the door.

It slammed shut harder than she anticipated, startling her. Her heart fluttered, frightened. She was only a little jumpy. She avoided her father because he already haunted her. From the darkness, he materialized and whispered tauntingly in her ear.

She feared her mother's illness had begun to materialize inside her. She had watched her mother suffer as a result. She had shorter periods of lucidity as she neared death. She had bizarre hallucinations—many peaceful imaginings that had often found the late queen having conversations with empty spaces, but there had been terrifying episodes that had often required she be restrained. The reason Asta had been moved out of the eastern tower had been because during one of those frightening lapses, her mother had tried to drown her.

Asta was afraid of living through that. To lose her mind and her memory, to have to sit alone in a tower unwanted, to put the people she cared about in danger. Nobody should have to go through something that painful. Yet, every night before she went to bed, reminded of the remorse that pulled her mother down, she prayed to every higher being she could think of and wished to take her mother's pain away.

"Make it mine if you have to," she had whispered into the dark space. "Just don't take my mom away."

She damned herself to this fate.

It would take her too.

The gargantuan room was all marble and high ceilings. Bengt left offerings of gold all around the marble block in the center where her father's corpse was placed. The materials of which the room had been constructed gave it a cool temperature. The high windows allowed the purest bars of sunlight to shine white across the monochrome floor. The light hit the ornaments in just the right angle and made their immaculate surfaces and colorful gems glisten. No expense had been spared.

Asta braced herself. Her father's body had not been covered. She pictured he might after hearing he had received a blow to the head with an axe. She approached as she tried to remember an instant where he showed her affection and halted at his side realizing he had never been genuine when he did. She recalled his harsh lessons, his indifferent demeanor, and his cruel words. She wanted to see him and feel her eyes fill with tears. She wished she could ache in the same way she did for her mother out of fear that she was being unfair to him. She fooled herself by saying that she was numb to the pain because she already experienced the worse death imaginable.

This was breaking another bone. It hurt, but it would heal. She was used to the process. It was not as impossible as the first time.

Her father was impeccably dressed in navy blue stitched in gold and black. His hands were folded over the handle of the axe that sat atop him. His skin was ashen and cold to the touch. The top half of his forehead was stitched tight, though a pink line of flesh gave away the sloppy job. She followed the stitches all the way to the back of his blond head. A thin, gold crown gilded with sapphires sat atop his head, attempting to hide the imperfections. His face was strange. His cheeks more pronounced. He looked thinner than she last saw him.

As she scrutinized his emaciated appearance, she felt her arms prickle with goose bumps. The room's temperature dropped significantly low. The small hairs in the back of her neck rose as an unnatural feeling dug into her skin.

She touched his cheek and his eyes snapped open—electric blue and without pupils. She snatched her hand back, but he seized it. The axe clattered to the marble floor, the sound ricocheted off the walls. She opened her mouth to scream, but he turned her around swiftly and muffled the sound. The cold radiated off his skin and his body was heavily perfumed to mask the scent of rotting flesh.

She struggled against his hold, but only hurt herself.

_"Open your eyes, Skadi,"_ he whispered against her hair. _"Wide."_

She shook violently. Her heart beat increased; it drumming aggressively. She kicked her feet and knocked a gold ornament over. It distracted him and she elbowed him hard, forcing him to release her.

Asta did not make it far. She tripped over the fallen ornament she kicked earlier and dropped to the ice floor. She heard the sound of his booted feet and screamed at the top of her lungs.

"Help!"

Her father laughed boisterously. He grabbed her foot and dragged her back, forcing her on her back. She cried for help again.

_"Protect them."_

She choked back tears as the door slammed open. She turned away from her father and scrambled to her feet, falling into the arms of a man that righted her. The other three guards ran past them, scouting the room.

"Princess, what happened?" asked one behind her.

"He's not—he's not dead—my father—he's—"

The guard stared at her stunned. The silence among them was heavy.

Asta looked over her shoulder and did not see her father. He was where she first spotted him on the stone marble in the middle of the room. She sucked in a breath, stunned. She pushed away from the guard, apologizing to him, and rushed out, holding her arm.

She ran into Hua on the way back to her bedchamber.

"Oh my—princess, are you okay?" asked Hua, searching her for injury. Her sophisticated face was filled with worry. "I am so sorry! Did I hurt your arm?"

Asta shook her head. Her heart had not yet settled.

"No, you didn't hurt me," Asta assured, hurrying past her. She heard her father calling out to her in the back of her mind and it reminded her of the ice that swept under her skin with his touch.

"Princess, you should not be running!"

She felt pressured to run by the looming presence of her father. She bore a natural inclination towards escaping from as long as she recalled. Her fears oftentimes manifested into realistic tormentors that pursued her through nightmares and left her fearful of sleep and the darkness that welcomed it.

Asta ran inside her room, startling Fu who was tidying up. She smiled at her nervously and climbed into bed, sitting in the center of it. She hugged a pillow to her chest and listened to the sound of Fu folding clothes and moving things around. She felt restless, but she did not want to move. She planned to sit in bed, nursing her aching arm, until she could forget it all. She hoped that if she ignored it long enough it would go away.

{ **v **}

Morning arrived and it was filled with nervous anticipation.

Bo helped Asta into a thick, layered gown. The inner layers were a rich plum and the outer black. The patterned collar fell just above her shoulders. Bo finished buttoning her up and tied a silver rope belt around her waist but it fell to her hips loosely.

Fu secured her arm into a sling, apologizing each time she thought she hurt her, though she had not even once. She handled her duty well, her hands held hers delicately.

Hua aided her into a warm coat, the insides lined with fur to keep her warm against the howling winds.

Another attendant stepped in once they were finished to comb out her hair and braid it, finishing by tying it together at the base of her neck. Two other attendants slipped silver bangles on her wrist and fitted drop coil cluster earrings into her pierced earlobes. One went to Bo with two choices of necklaces—both silver, one with rings woven into smaller rings and the other resembled a link of chain mail attached to jump rings weaved together with beads and filigree curved spikes in the front. Bo chose the one with the spikes, though she did it with little appreciation for the fashion.

The necklace was fitted around Asta's neck and fixed so it fell in the right place. The cold metal gave her a chill.

A knock at the door disturbed the fluidity of everyone's movements. Bo gestured to the attendant closest to the entrance. The attendant inclined her head and went to open it, stepping aside to reveal Caj Öman behind it.

The stout, round male shuffled in and bowed. "Good morning, your majesty."

Asta faced him. "Thank you for allowing us to stay in your home for the night."

"It was my pleasure to serve you," he said, smiling. "You and your husband are welcomed to stay as long as you need."

"Thank you, Lord Öman."

"Everything is ready now, your majesty," said Caj. "I wondered if you would allow me to escort you."

Bo laughed at the absurdity. "She must decline politely. She is to be escorted by the prince."

"Of course, and you must pardon my boldness, but it would be an honor. I asked his majesty the prince if it were too impudent to ask and he assured me it was okay so long as the princess permitted it."

Asta smiled generously. "I would be honored, Lord Caj."

Bo audibly expressed her disapproval as she herded the attendants into their next set of tasks.

"Now, if you would give me a few minutes to finish readying myself."

"Oh, of course! Excuse me." Caj backed out of the room and took the gold handle of his door. "Pardon my earlier intrusion."

He swung the door shut behind him.

Bo's grumbling continued as Asta's attendants packed her things away.

Asta and Kouen traveled to the Öman Province yesterday afternoon for the king's funerary rites after a small wake had been held in that same morning, one that only the servants attended. Asta stayed in her room after her last experience with honoring her father and decided to show up for the rites. She did not have the heart to avoid them as he had her mother's because she would regret it.

They arrived to the province late that night and were welcomed by Caj warmly, who offered them the best apartments within his gargantuan home. She was reacquainted with his wife and his children, but the mood was melancholic due to the circumstances that had brought her down to their home.

"Princess?"

Asta looked up from fiddling with her belt. Bo held a crown woven in pearls and white flowers for her. She lowered her head as her caretaker placed it atop her head.

"There you are, I suppose."

She saw Bo was upset about Caj escorting her.

"Kouen did not mind."

"He was only being polite with him. You were supposed to turn him down."

"I do not see reason to reject him."

Nothing she said would make her happy. Asta thanked her and exited. Caj offered his arm for her to take. She linked hers with his and allowed him to escort her outside to the rocky shores where the rites were set to take place.

A small crowd had gathered. Most were guards from the castle or the Öman family house. There were a couple of civilians standing off the beach as they had been instructed. Bengt stood with Kouen. Caj's family waited for the head of the house to join them.

Everyone with one exception bowed as she approached. Caj walked her all the way to Kouen's side. She noticed her aunt's presence after looking at everyone closely. She wore a sour look on her face. She came accompanied by Kay Åkerman as always.

The wind howled through the small crowd. Asta surveyed the people attending once more, surprised by the handful of individuals attending. Honestly, when she imagined her father's funerary rites, she pictured Bengt standing on the shore alone going through the proceedings while crying into his sleeve. The turnout amazed her.

The people looked upon her to speak and she braced herself as she stepped forward. Bengt watched her as she approached the magnificent ship Anders constructed for the occasion. The long ship sat ashore surrounded by blood red flowers. The inside was lined with expensive grave goods—swords, shields, crowns, pendants, and armor—and held her father's coffin draped with a white flower crown she weaved while on the road to the Öman Province. She knew she did not want to offer him more than he deserved. She filled her mother's ship with flowers because her father striped her of her jewelry and did not bother to commission new ones. He had been in quite a hurry to get rid of her.

Asta stole a glance at Freja, whose voice echoed in her mind. _"What did your mother have?"_

Her father already haunted her. What more could he do?

"My father was an ambitious king"—behind her, she heard Bengt exclaim in outrage and the small gathering erupt in whispers—"and he drove our country to the ground."

"Princess!" shouted Bengt.

Kouen glimpsed at him and it silenced him.

Asta raised her voice, turning away from the ship. "He used my mother to get ahead. He accused her of being insane—she was _not_. He drove her insane by imprisoning her in a tower. She ruled this country with the intent of creating a place where people could live happily and when she died, he sent her off into the afterlife without the luxury she deserved as queen." She picked up a handful of gold chains and jewels from among her father's grave goods. "He deserves the burial he earned and his mistakes against us have outweighed all the good he manipulated us into believing he did."

She threw the chains and jewels to the ground, listening to an echo from the people that were gathered around them. Behind them, the curious denizens chanted her name. Standing firm with her decision, she turned to her guards and ordered them to help strip her father clean of goods.

"Princess, how dare you?" cried Bengt, he looked around him at the people standing still while her guards did away with the commissioned treasures. "How dare you all? Doing this to the king is blasphemous! You will know his wrath!"

Not a moment later, Kouen's soldiers joined hers in their endeavor.

Bengt confronted her. "You will regret this."

Although, her heart raced nervously in her chest and her stomach fluttered with doubt, Asta took a step forward, forcing Bengt to move back. "I will not be afraid of you."

His jaw tightened and his eyes screamed bloody murder. He grabbed her wounded arm and crushed it in his grip. She bore the pain, allowing it only to show with a wince.

"Release me," she ordered.

"You will fear me," he whispered lowly. "You know not what I am capable of, you bumbling fool."

A shadow fell across his hand, stretched long against the tiny white rocks beneath them. "Do not touch her."

Bengt released her immediately and bowed to Kouen. "I am sorry, my prince, I—"

She did not plan to find out what he had in store for her. She interrupted him. "When we return to Io Castle, I ask that you pack your things—"

"You cannot!" protested Bengt.

"I can," said Asta, "and I have. You are hereby relieved of your duties."

"That is absurd!"

"I do not want to see you in the castle when I return, so you best leave now."

"You insolent—"

"Remove Bengt from the shore," she ordered, aloud.

Caj's hulking guards offered Bengt a non-humiliating exit by gesturing him towards the people chanting her name, but the chamberlain refused to move. He was dragged out kicking and screaming, cursing her to hell and back, making a spectacle of himself. The people off the beach shouted obscenities at him in her defense.

Once the grave goods had been accumulated on the shore, a priestess offered her father a final prayer before Asta was offered a torch. She walked alongside the soldiers pushing the long ship onto the sea. The strong winds had settled for a moment, giving her ample opportunity to set the wood on fire.

A wave rolled in and soaked the bottom of her skirts. She watched fire lap up the wood as the wind guided it further and further into the unsettling waters. The flames grew into a blaze. The burning ship drifted until it disappeared beyond the horizon.

Asta closed her eyes. Her heart crumbled as her anxiety shot up.

The Öman family hosted an extravagant dinner following the rites during where Caj toasted to her bravery in confronting Bengt, a powerful man within his own right, and in desecrating her father's expensive funeral. Word had spread into the adjacent provinces, including Nyström Island. Asta being in no mood to celebrate retired early. She slept dreamlessly.

She and Kouen returned to Io Castle the following day, arriving as the sun began to set, bringing an autumn shade to the sky. She called upon the servant present to welcome them home and asked after Bengt.

Keeping his eyes glued to the floor, he answered, "He departed late last night with all of his belongings."

It relieved her to hear about it. Bo touched her shoulder gently and guided her towards the second floor.

"Asta."

She turned to meet Kouen. He looked to her attendants and they wordlessly left them.

"My brother Koumei should be arriving to Ione within the next two days," he told her. "He will take over in my absence."

"Your absence?"

"I will be traveling to Corrin to finish your father's siege." He stepped forward, moving to walk past her. "Consider accompanying me."

"To Corrin? For what reason would I be needed there?"

"Motivation." As if he knew she was capable of misunderstanding, he added, "To your soldiers. They lost a king. Let them gain the support of their future queen."

She had never left the country before, though the circumstances were not to her liking, this was an opportunity for her to observe her husband further in his most natural setting—at war.

"I will consider it."


	14. (05) Fatal Paragon - Pt 3

**FATAL PARAGON** | REN KOUEN

[ **i** ]

It appeared to him that the Ionian House was partly to blame for the dismissal of Bengt. Asta's encounter with the Ionian House changed her demeanor a bit. She appeared to be a little more on edge. Kouen understood there was no love lost between Bengt and Asta. Guileless as she appeared, her natural perception of people was impressive, though it was not so perfect that she was not manipulated. Bengt was a far cry from an honest man or one with the particularly pious set of morals expected of the chamberlain in the castle, but he was sharp sighted, ambitious, and well versed in knowledge beyond Ione. He was useful. He did not ask many questions, though he did find other ways to meddle.

In fact, Kouen was not all that shocked to find a parting letter from Bengt among his research in Ingrid's library or that it dedicated several pages towards the defamation of his wife. He padded the insults by swearing loyalty to him and his continued expression of worry towards his well-being within the castle in his absence. If Asta were a different sort of person, he might have felt a little inclined to keep a closer eye on her. Bengt assured him that the next person she would eject from the castle would be him via the Castle Guard—"loyal to her for the sweet fruit she imparts so generously while she is off gallivanting through the castle without the hawkish eye of Lady Bo." He provided what he called "proof" to uncourtly behavior in revealing her romantic involvement with a dead commander of the army.

The proclamation, in truth, made him feel sorry for the man for falling in love with her. At the same time, it made him research Johan Ek to find a period of time in which he was trained in Freja Tjäder's private guard before he was recommended to join the country's military where he rose through the ranks quickly. As commander, he was stationed in one of the nine provinces where he commanded a small group that maintained the peace among the citizens. Records apart from a few military-related documents and his arrest warrant labeling him guilty of treason were likely destroyed, though it was hard for him to determine if Hákon or Bengt had been responsible.

The slander failed to fulfill its purpose.

Kouen attempted to memorize where everything of importance was kept, but he had not covered all areas due to all the other plans he was setting into effect. He believed finding his way around would become difficult without Bengt's aid, but realized that was a useless thought when Asta proved quite useful at filling in. Although, she required more attention than he could offer her, she was quiet and hardworking during their first experience in implementing their new work system. It helped that she did not have any lessons to keep her occupied and her nosey caretaker was ecstatic when she heard they were spending time together. Admittedly, there was more stability between them. His opinion of her did improve, though his initial impression of her remained poor. The gullible aspects of her personality, her mumbling, and her insistent use of "_ohs_" continued to annoy him, though it shocked him to find that in a span of three days that he started to notice them less. Although, he contributed the change as a result of her comfort level with him growing. Or perhaps, it was the other way around.

"…have established trade routes with them."

The soft cadence of her voice filled his ears. He lowered his eyes to hers, meeting them briefly. She stood to his right—small and frail like a bird with a broken wing.

He opened his mouth to ask that she repeat herself when a knock at the library's door drew their attention to it.

"Come in," Asta called, furling the unruly map they were holding down with their hands.

Bo entered and knelt, head bowed. "Prince Koumei has arrived."

Asta tensed at his side. She stole a glance at his face, hesitating before she spoke. "We will meet him downstairs."

"Understood," Bo said, rising to her full height. She put on her best smile. "Princess, why don't you go on ahead?"

"Me? B-But I have never met him." Asta's voice fluctuated as her nervous grew. "I-I don't think—"

"Nonsense," interjected Bo, waving her onward. "Go, introduce yourself."

"I will join you shortly," said Kouen.

"Oh. Okay."

Asta excused herself. She walked towards the door stiffly.

"Be polite," said Bo as the princess walked past her.

Bo approached him, though he noticed she kept her distance from him just the same. She bowed once more, remaining in the position. "I humbly request a word with you, your majesty."

"What is it?"

The woman did not request audiences with him. She spoke to him when she wanted at her own convenience.

"Leave the princess in Ione," she answered. "A battlefield is too dangerous for her."

"The decision is hers to make." He wanted to see the House's reaction to Asta's absence and Koumei's presence. There were over fifty spies from the Kou Empire scattered through Ione relaying all the movements of the Ionian House to him. "If that will be all—"

"Asta will be safer here."

"Why?"

"It is dangerous."

"For who?"

She held his gaze for a beat. "Her. _Obviously. _Do consider her safety. If something were to happen to her, Ione would not be kind."

Bo inclined her head respectfully and turned away.

"Bo," he called. She stopped halfway to the door. "Why do you think the Kou Empire took Ione?"

She smiled. "For the same reason you agreed to marry Princess Asta yourself—a powerful army and easy access to the Byzen Cluster as well as the Reim Empire for when the time comes."

That did not answer his question, but the knowing smile that preceded the words left him suspicious. He made a note to encourage his brother to keep a close eye on her actions during his absence, though he expected to unearth no strange activity. He previously likened Bo's behavior towards Asta a result of a year's acquaintance. She, like the rest of the Ionian population as well as the Kou Empire soldiers posted as far back as a year, had been charmed by his wife, but perhaps, there was an underlying reason.

Once Kouen came upon the opportunity to spend time with Koumei alone, only moments after he caught his brother and his wife picking up the shattered remains of a vase they were both responsible for breaking, he asked about the caretaker.

"She tutored for a wealthy family in Rakushou for years before she was contracted to help Lady Asta."

He decided to let the subject rest finding the response sufficient.

Asta was stretching her arm as the physician instructed in order to restore its mobility with the help of an attendant. The dark-haired attendant returned the princess' arm to its sling and excused herself.

That night as she was lying with her arm propped up on a pillow, she whispered, "I want to go with you to Corrin."

Kouen opened his eyes and saw the outline of her face in the dark. "We will leave tomorrow morning."

"Tomorrow?"

"Do you need to stay her any longer?"

"Ah, no. Tomorrow is good."

He heard the smile in her words.

**FATAL PARAGON **| END


	15. (06) Blood Pearl - Pt 1

**SIX**: Blood Pearl

* * *

**House Vång**

The Vång Province boasts a lively, hardworking population. It is located on higher ground and predominately filled with mines where Ionian ore is harvested. As such, many members of its community are miners, smithies, and weapons and armor sellers that have established trade and connections with Houses Öman and Strand.

However, being one of the poorest populations, despite the popularity of their black ore (whose most profits go straight into the crown's treasury), it was the first province to be devastated by the famine brought on by Hákon's tyrannical rule. They lost over sixty percent of their inhabitants, mostly children, to malnutrition, military service, or mine accidents. After Hákon ordered for the harvesting of ore to stop, they lost the little bit of funding that they had coming into their province.

Egil Vång is the head of House Vång. He is the best blacksmith in the province and has smelted swords for many foreign kings and princes since his time as a genius apprentice. He accompanied Hákon to war to provide the Ionian army with the best weapons and armor, leaving his wife Ylva to handle all Ionian House affairs.

The Vång province is located southwest of Astoria between Ljung and Öman provinces.

* * *

**xl**: I am a little late, but Merry Christmas! I hope everyone had a good Christmas and I hope that the New Year finds you well! I'm probably not going to be updating anymore this year, unless by some unforeseen miracle, I get better - I caught a terrible, terrible cold.

Thank you to **colouredred**, **Unlimited Power**, and **Mymina** for the reviews! Also, many thanks to any new favorites/alerts!


	16. (06) Blood Pearl - Pt 2

**BLOOD PEARL** |

{ **i** }

Asta cried on the first night of the voyage to Corrin. She had been saddened by Bo's refusal to bid her farewell after she had gone against her wishes by agreeing to travel. She didn't understand why Bo wanted her to stay out of Corrin, especially when she was following her husband. Asta expected Bo to be pleased by her choice. She stupidly imagined that Bo would be ecstatic about her spending more time with Kouen, as it had appeared to her that that was Bo's only aspiration during her tenure in Ione and she had been happy to find them together more often than not. However, Bo had persistently asked her to stay in Io Castle under her care, but Asta had ignored her pleas, believing that she was doing something right. Despite how upset Bo had been with her for going against her wishes, she had asked Hua to go with her, thought it should have been her caretaker herself to be at her side. Carina and Aghi had also accompanied her after winning a raucous drinking game to determine what members of the Castle Guard would serve as her personal soldiers, of which she had only been allowed two. Kouen assured her that she would need no more than two.

On that same night, a strange dream came to plague her. She stood beside Kouen's seat with her hand on his shoulder and watched him take a cup overflowing with black water from a table, drawing it to his lips. A rotten scent burned her nose, a bitter taste gagged her, but she couldn't move an inch.

She woke up startled and covered in cold sweat. She turned to her sleeping husband beside her and realized, after relaxing, that because of the narrow bed, they were lying closer to one another, their shoulders pressing. She felt incredibly small beside him. She wondered if it bothered him to share a bed with her. Did he sleep comfortably on his own? Was he sharing her bed because he felt obligated to do so? She didn't mind if that was the case because she was the same.

Once her tremors stopped and curious after staring at his handsome face, Asta lifted her hand above his lips, but stopped short. She thought about what it would be like for him to kiss her. He kissed her in other places, but when she thought she would feel his mouth press against hers, he diverted his attention elsewhere.

Embarrassed, she chased the thoughts from her head and tried to sleep.

The second night as the ship neared the Baryon coast, Asta ran to the side of the ship. She planted her hands firm on the edge, fingers curling over and under it. The spray of seawater hit her face and the winds whistled above her, tousling her white-blond hair into tangles. Erected on the shore were two flagpoles. The tallest of the two bore the Kou Empire's insignia emblazoned on a black surface and the second, at a head shorter, in white cloth was Ione's emblem—the strong lines of a bull with curved horns in black. She felt the air leave her lungs when she saw the ruins of a stone city ravaged by war beyond them. She unconsciously tightened her grip on the wood beneath her palms. Her chest constricted.

Carina joined her, eyes fixed on the island. The tall guard appeared to be contemplating a question while they stood in silence observation.

Asta chased the shadows creeping within her line of sight and reimagined the city as it once was before her father arrived with troops to take it forcibly.

"Who is stationed in Baryon?" asked Carina.

"Commander Ivor."

Carina frowned. "I had forgotten he had been promoted."

Asta nodded. He received his promotion after arresting Johan, replacing him in the Ionian army. She learned that Ivor had been trailing Johan for several months, which had explained how her father had known they would elope.

"I have never been to a battlefield," said Carina, placing her shaking hands on the edge of the ship next to hers. "It's daunting."

"I'm a little scared about getting there, too."

"Nice to know I'm not alone." Carina grinned. Her hands trembled.

Asta took Carina's hand. "Me too."

She dreamt the same dream again that night. Black water overflowed from a golden chalice in Kouen's hand that he brought up to his mouth to drink. She could only watch.

The third night was a quiet trip through darkness. Asta stared at the sky and its twinkling stars with her mind full of Johan. A similar sky had reminded her of him as he had walked across the field outside Io Castle while the country had slept and he had kissed her so fiercely she had no doubt in her mind that she would melt into the ground.

She loved him.

She loved him and missed him. Oh Johan, beautiful Johan. She wanted to see him again.

It took her a while to realize Kouen had joined her when she had been too busy spinning underneath the night sky, imagining herself in Johan's arms dancing across the marble floor of one of the many halls in Io Castle. She stopped abruptly, completely embarrassed, and looked in his direction as a tiny source of light near his face faded into the darkness. A lantern trick.

She awkwardly joined him, hoping he did not catch any of that before a pang of guilt hit her. She smiled at him shyly and lowered her gaze to the deck. She could not think of anything to say that would come out even remotely coherent. She wished he would shatter the silence before her awkwardness polluted the air around them. Say something, she urged mentally, anything at all.

Anything—

"Did you know Johan Ek?"

—not that!

Asta looked at him, jaw slack. As always, she gave herself away. "Who?"

He gazed at her. "Johan Ek. He was executed for treason a year ago."

She swallowed hard. "Was he?"

"He was the overseeing commander of the Hult Province."

"He was?"

Inwardly, Asta cursed her lame attempt to evade the question.

"Chamberlain Bengt"—and upon hearing that man's cursed name, Asta turned all her ill wishes onto him knowing that in his departure he must have opened his big mouth to say something scandalous about her and Johan—"mentioned he frequented the castle."

"_Ooh_, Commander Ek, you mean Commander Ek." Asta clapped her hands together as if she had had an epiphany. "Lady Hult asked him to accompany me on my hunting trips."

It was not a blatant lie. That was the story that they had going for them and Agda Hult had recommended him to accompany her. She had trusted him well enough to say he was fit to see that the princess was well protected during her short expeditions. However, they did little to no hunting on their meetings and mostly kissed in all the hiding places they discovered within the province.

Kouen stared at her blankly.

"He was a kind man," she continued, finding his gaze accusing. "I do not think he was capable of treason."

"He had close attachments to Freja Tjäder like one of your other connections," he commented, speaking his piece with certainty.

"What?" she questioned, finding the conversation steering in a strange direction.

"Your previous attendant," he answered. "Brita Grahn."

"Brita worked for a family in the Nyström Province before that. What does she have to do with Johan Ek? And why are we bringing up my aunt?"

"You have expressed a lack of trust when it comes to your aunt," he reminded. "We share the sentiment. I do not believe she visited the castle out of concern for you, I think she arrived to confirm that her brother was dead."

"But at that point the news had been contained within the castle," reasoned Asta.

"As it should have been, but did you not receive a somewhat unexpected visit from a person that should not have been there?" he asked, turning to her fully.

"Brita?" she asked, shocked. "You cannot think Brita told my aunt. She wouldn't have. She told me she learned of it after visiting the next time!"

"Her last display showed her determination to extricate you from the castle by accusing me of harming you, but have you any idea where she planned to take you?"

"To the Åkerman family, I think."

"And who petitioned for your aunt's reinstatement into the Ionian House?"

"The Lords Åkerman and Byquist."

Slowly, but surely, in the terse quiet that followed, the idea he wanted to get across began to take shape in her mind. In the backdrop of waves gently rocking their ship and the soft whisper of the winds, Asta realized that if there were any enemies against the current order that the names he dropped were the prime suspects.

"But you are saying that Brita is guilty of espionage and that Johan was her colleague? And that my aunt, Lord Åkerman, and Lord Byquist would be the suspects if a rebellion were to be staged?"

"Yes."

"Brita and Johan would never—I, I don't believe it." She struggled to make sense of that accusation. Brita and Johan were completely trustworthy. "It's an absurd coincidence."

"Is it?"

"Brita was brought to the castle to attend to me from when I was young," Asta said. She was ready to stand by Brita, despite not having forgiven her for the humiliation she made her endure. She did that out of concern of her and she was certain that if given the opportunity to speak to her in private about the matter, she would understand that Kouen was not responsible. "My mother trusted her. She would not have left me in the care of someone's puppet. She trusted Brita more than she trusted any other servant in the castle. My mother—she would never…she only wanted me to be safe."

"Your mother relinquished her sound judgment when she married your father," he said, and it sounded definitive.

"You cannot make that argument!" she snapped, unable to contain the swell of anger that resulted from his deduction. "You were not there! You did not watch her health deteriorate! You were never affected by the departure of her sanity! You know nothing about my mother!"

"I know what is written and what Chamberlain Bengt imparted to me for relevancies' sake," he said, unfazed by the rise of her tone.

"He knew less of my mother," she said tremulously. "That leaves you with no right to speak of her or her decisions."

"I did not intend to insult your mother," he told her, stepping closer to her. She backed away. "I only meant to open your eyes to who our enemies might be. These are mere observations on my part and you don't need to accept them or dwell on them. You are free to continue protecting the Ionian House. Prove me wrong."

Did he want her to challenge him?

Asta felt a chill rattle her. She doubted her aunt. She worsened their relationship by removing her from her post. She did everything she could have possibly done to ensure the protection of the Ionian House plan went south. She continued to believe in the innocence of every member, though she did possess her doubts. She did not intend to accuse anyone unfairly.

What sort of ruler would she be if she did not believe in her people?

"You are wrong," she affirmed, standing tall, comfortable in doing so. "Brita and Johan are victims of their circumstances. They are innocent. They would never think to spy on the royal family to drive a coup. I would trust both of them with my life."

"Your love for them clouds your judgment."

"My love for them?" she asked, taken aback. "Commander Ek and I were only acquaintances—whatever you heard from Chamberlain Bengt was a lie."

She realized shortly that she singled out Johan. She couldn't take it back.

"You do not hide your emotions well," he informed. "You love Johan Ek."

"Another absurd observation?" she snapped, adamant about denying it.

"That was a fact."

"Proven by what?"

"You speak his name in your sleep."

Asta's face reddened. "I must have mispronounced something. You must have heard wrong. I have never been in love with Commander Ek."

"It does not matter to me whether you are or were as long as you fulfill your duties to me and I you, you are at liberty to love how many dead men you wish. Do not forget this marriage was convenient for us both and know that we do not need to love each other to gain what we need from one another, but we do need to work together."

She tried not to let any of that hurt her. He was only stating the obvious. She didn't care if he didn't love her. She told herself many times before. Acknowledging that fact made it easier for her because it limited her expectations of him to simply helping her country and his went no further than securing his succession line.

The conversation ended with his leave. Asta realized that she was even more determined to prove him wrong, but at the same time, she allowed her mind to be plagued by the fact that Kouen confirmed his knowledge of her involvement with Johan.

She was certain that she would dream of Johan that night because her mind was filled with thoughts of him, but she had the same dream as the previous two nights. The difference between the last two manifestations was that she and Kouen were surrounded by darkness, but in this one, Asta was able to make out three figures among the shadows muttering words in a language she did not understand. Kouen brought the overflowing chalice to his mouth, but she put her hand atop it, stopping him. She recalled the look of his red eyes on hers after she had woken.

On the fourth night when they were two hours away from arriving to Corrin, the island visible in the horizon, growing larger as their ships neared it, she confronted him about his information. The two sat on their shared bed engaged in time-consuming activities. He read an old edition of a book she knew her mother had been very attached to, while she committed to the stretching exercises that the castle's physician prescribed her to ensure the quick healing of her sprained arm.

"What did Chamberlain Bengt say to you?"

"About?" he asked, not lifting his eyes away from the text.

"About Johan and I."

"Not quite as much as you assume," he told her, "though he did say you were involved with the entire Castle Guard."

"Involved?"

"Intimately."

Her jaw dropped. "That is not true!"

"I did not entertain his accusations."

"Because it isn't true!"

"I know."

She relaxed, realizing he was not accusing her. "You don't believe him?"

As he turned the page of his book, he said, "You have the natural charm of a lump of wood."

A lump of wood?

"What does that mean?" she demanded, throwing a pillow down on her lap.

"It means that if anyone implied you were anything but a virtuous woman, I would know they were lying."

She grimaced. "Because I'm as charming as a lump of wood?"

"Yes," he said, turning the page.

"Which is to say that I am not charming at all?" she asked, her frown deepening. "What is charm anyway?"

"The ability to attract others."

"I can do that! I do that all the time!"

"Not well."

She shrank in her seat, exhausted by his monotonous responses. "Well, would you prefer to be married to a charming wife?"

He looked at her briefly and she knew not to expect an answer. She convinced herself that she did not need one, even though it bothered her to think she was not as charming as Bo wanted her to be. It was not as if they were married to each other because they were in love. They covered that subject in its entirety last night. She understood it to the same effect he had presented it to her.

Asta continued to exercise her arm, thinking about what Bo would say if she heard Kouen likened her charm to a lump of wood.

A ring of familiar laughter hit her ear.

She startled. She turned in the direction of the sound. In her head, she pictured a figure in white holding out a white crown that disintegrated with her touch. She blinked and the image disappeared.

She thought of it less and less as their trip to Corrin ended. Asta stepped out onto the deck behind Kouen, her stomach filled with nervous butterflies, where it was pitch black. She could not see beyond the lantern above the door at her back and it frightened her. The island of Corrin was a mass of darkness.

Asta moved to stand a little closer to Kouen, who guided her to the side of the ship where a dinghy had been lowered onto the calm waters to transport them to the island.

"Can you climb down on your own?" asked Kouen.

She nodded. She stepped up to the rope ladder and looked over the edge. She saw a pair of figures on the bottom waiting. She climbed over the edge, turning as she held a firm grip on the wooden step beneath her feat. She descended slowly, her healing arm trembling from the effort, and received aid from one of the two soldiers on the small boat.

Kouen joined them shortly. Asta stared at him as another of the soldiers tied her sling behind her neck. The climb down left her arm sore.

The soldiers rowed the dinghy to shore of the mountainous nation of Corrin. A small group of Kou Empire troops stepped out into moonlight, getting down to their knees to greet them. It took a few minutes to offer them new information concerning the status of the war.

Corrin was a stronghold filled with secret passages and hidden shelters stocked with resources that helped the skilled Corrinean army protect themselves from invasion over the years. Her father had taken control of a greater portion of the country while he was leading the charge himself when he took over the capital. However, the Corrinean prince managed to escape and rallied support that resulted in a few losses on their end while another commander took the lead until Werner Tjäder arrived with a huge number of Kou Empire soldiers.

Asta could not wait to see Werner.

The Kou Empire soldiers guided them to their encampment. There were tents as far as she could see huddled close together between two narrow slopes. Thousands upon thousands of soldiers were present—roaming the camp on their patrols, sitting by the warm fires eating their rations, moving to and fro locations on important errands, tending to the horses, or sharpening their weapons. The camp was thriving with activity. She searched the encampment for Werner or Egil Vång, the Ionian House member that accompanied her father, but there were too many people in the way, making it hard for her to see anyone for a prolonged amount of time as she followed Kouen through the military camp. The air was frosty and filled with the scents of wet soil, blood, steel, and rotting flesh.

She hoisted her coat higher to shield her neck from the chill and wrapped her arm around herself. The Ionian soldiers that she walked past them recognized her and turned to one another as they whispered her name as well as questioned her presence.

Drawing closer fast from a distance north of the narrow slope, Asta heard the galloping of horses and saw the banners of their unified countries billowing in the air.

"Senior Commander Tjäder has returned!"

Every soldier raised their heads at the sound of the announcement and turned in the direction of shouts.

"Have the commander see us," said Kouen, then turned to her. "Come, Asta."

She walked with him towards the center of the camp where they entered a large tent. Inside, they found the warmth of a brazier that offered the room a yellow-orange glow. A roomy table sat at an angle on one side of the tent. It held maps, a short stack of books, writing utensils, and correspondences. On the other side of the tent was a narrow mattress with a coverlet and pillow sitting at the end in a neat little rectangle. A rack of different weapons sat near the entrance beside a brown metal and leather trunk.

Asta was drawn to the longbow hung from a hook. She reached out to touch the wooden surface and it brought back memories of trailing behind Werner's broad back on one of their first hunting trips when she was still learning how to use the bow he gave her.

She turned back to Kouen, who stood behind the desk scrutinizing the map. She joined him. There were markings all over the map of Corrin. She recognized her father's handwriting mixed together with Werner's and was able to decipher the meaning to a number of them. She understood that with her father's initial efforts, they had conquered a large portion of the country, and Werner had added another big chunk. The remaining land would be the hardest to control.

Werner entered the tent as he cast the silver helmet from his head. His long pale hair was tied back into a low ponytail, though a few shorter strands stuck out or sat glued to his sweaty face. He had a strong, squared jaw and a long face that complimented a firm physique. His blue eyes were wide with excitement.

"Princess," he called, sounding relieved to see her.

Asta ran to him and he caught her in his arms. She wrapped her arm around his neck. "Werner!" She drew away from him and worriedly searched him for wounds, finding none. "Is everything okay? Are you unhurt?"

Werner took her hand from him and looked at her, his blond eyebrows knitted together with concern. "What happened to your arm?"

"It's mostly healed—ah, we can talk about it later." Asta cast a glance at Kouen. "Werner, this is my husband, Prince Kouen of the Kou Empire." She walked back to his side. "Kouen, this is my cousin and Senior Commander of the Ionian Army."

Werner put his hands together and kneeled into a bow. "It is a pleasure to meet you, your majesty."

"You have impressive skill," Kouen told him.

"I thank you for the praise, but my skill is not worthy of it," said Werner. "I failed to capture the Corrinean prince before he escaped to the danger zones."

"If you have a plan to reach him, I will hear it and join you."

"It would be an honor." Werner raised himself up and looked over to Asta. "Will you be joining us in the field as well, princess? If your arm is mostly healed, you should be able to use a bow. Lord Vång can give you one of his latest creations if you would like it."

"No, I am only here to support the cause," said Asta, embarrassed that he suggested she join their war effort. She did not think she would fare well in that situation. "I am, however, interested in learning the fate of the royal family. I understand Nikias has gone to rally his supporters, but what of the king and the young princesses."

"The Corrinean king lost his life to your father and the princesses have been taken care of as per your father's orders."

"Taken care of?"

Werner sighed. It pained him to answer her question. She saw it clearly in his body language. "They were taken to be sold."

"Why?"

"I did try to have the king reconsider, but he was adamant about it and with myself in Baryon, there was little I could do."

The light flickered.

_"They fetched a good price."_

Asta whirled around to the sound of her father's voice, but there was nobody apart from them within the tent. She shook her head, certain that she imagined it.

"Is there a way for me to speak to Nikias?" asked Asta. She knew him for being a sensible person that if called upon for aid would give it without a second thought.

"The time for negotiations is done, Asta," said Kouen. "You cannot sway him."

"I agree with his majesty, the Corrinean prince is not a man we should be having talks with. He is determined to see us defeated," added Werner. "If we revealed your presence, he would target you and it would do us no favors for you to be captured."

"Then we must find a way to bargain with him," suggested Asta. "What about his sisters? We can return them to him as a peace offering-"

"That is not how war works," interrupted Kouen. He faced Werner. "We will convene with your other commanders and mine about our next course of action."

"I will call on them, please excuse me."

Werner exited.

"You cannot think to head into the danger zone. It's full of traps, treacherous land, and dangerous animals. Only the most adept Corrinean soldier can maneuver his way through them without encountering trouble."

"Do you doubt the ability of your army?"

"No, but I don't want my confidence to lead to their early deaths, not if It can be avoided."

"You are too kind for war."

Asta did not know if that was meant as a positive or a negative.

"The world where one can simply ask another to lay down their weapons does not exist." Kouen took a step forward. "Think about the circumstances. That prince will not stop fighting so long as he sees a reason to do so. He is protecting his people as you wish to spare ours of any more casualties. War is a gray area."

"We attacked them."

"If they had agreed to turn over control of their country peacefully to the Kou Empire we would not be here."

"They have a right to defend their country!"

"And we have every right to take it from them."

"Why? Because you're a powerful nation? That type of arrogance is an excuse to breed hate."

"That is the farthest thing from our goal."

"What goal?"

"A unified world free of hatred and of war," he revealed, and she was silenced.

Was such a thing possible?

She could not imagine such a utopia. Everyone was too different, but at the same time, her skin grew cold and she shuddered. It would be an ideal place to be in, especially if that meant peaceful relations with everyone on a global scale, but to accomplish it through violence or the threat of it made it hard for her to view it as a good thing.

Asta opened her mouth to question him when Werner reentered the tent with ten others following close behind. She swallowed down her inquiries and moved out of the way, waiting to be asked to leave, but as the others gathered around the table, Kouen gestured her forward to join them. The others inclined their heads at her approach. She recognized the men and women commanding the Ionian Army, but not the stout, grave faced men of the Kou Empire.

Werner took control of relaying the information. "The Corrinean prince absconded to the danger zones about a week ago. He utilized the momentum from King Hákon's victory in the capital to rally all troops in an effort to rescue his sisters, but when his capture seemed imminent, he escaped using an underground channel here." He drew a line across the capital to a mountainous area full of extra markings. The location felt familiar to her, as if she had seen it before, but she struggled to recall. "Commander Falk led an operation that destroyed the entrances to this channel to cut off their supply. As of now, we are positive that we have taken control of all the secret passages running throughout the country."

"It won't be long before Prince Nikias resurfaces from the zones," said Brenna Falk, the small woman with curly fiery hair.

It hit her suddenly, like a punch to the gut. "What about the other channels?"

"There are no others," said Brenna with confidence. She did not look at her. "We secured all of them already."

"What are you saying, princess?" asked Werner.

"My mother drew several maps of Corrin," Asta replied. She pointed to another area outside of Atros, the Corrinean capital. "There is another entrance here and another one between these two towns." She moved her finger across to a cluster of towns situated among a green strip of land while Werner marked the two places she pointed. "There were at least two others, but I don't remember their exact locations. Each leads to a different location inside the zones."

"You are certain about these?" asked Kouen.

"Yes."

With her confirmation, Kouen ordered Brenna and another Ionian commander to take care of uncovering the tunnels and mapping out their lengths. The next step would be destroying them. Kouen and Werner discussed the possibility of crossing into the danger zones, risking those that volunteered for the task and being the highly respected men that they were, Asta doubted anyone would even think to allow them to face Nikias and his hidden army alone. The other commanders were split into different tasks, two would join Kouen and Werner, and the other two would manage their control over the already conquered land.

Asta was given the option of accompanying Brenna or remaining in their war camp, but she was too nervous and scared to make a decision on the spot. She did not believe she had the necessary training or conviction to undertake the responsibility being offered to her. She thought she was supposed to provide motivation for the Ionian troops, but she doubted they would need her when Werner was a known charismatic leader that inspired his subordinates with his passion.

Once their short meeting ended, Asta stayed behind with Werner, who sat her down in the only chair in the room and bend down in front of her on his knees.

"What happened to your arm?" he asked.

"Freja, she…hit me and I fell off my horse," she answered. "It was only a sprain and it is mostly healed, but just sore."

"She hit you?" he demanded, speaking the words with the determination of a curse. "How dare she? How could she lay her hands on you?"

"I upset her, I am partly to blame."

"That gives her no right to raise her hand against you," he argued. "She is the head of an aristocratic house, of a household descendant of the royal line, and should know how to behave herself as such. Have you had her sentenced?"

"Sentenced? No."

"This is a grave offense," he said. "She should be held responsible for her actions. One does not simply harm a person of your stature."

"I did not have her imprisoned or sentenced to some horrifying torture or death, but I did relieve her of her position in the Ionian House." Werner's expression spooked her. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No," he said, patting her knee as he rose. "You did well."

Asta frowned. "Are you saying this because you think I'm too nice?"

Werner did a double take. "What?"

"Everyone says the same thing about me. I'm too nice, too gullible, an easy target for people's bad intentions—well, am I? Is being all of those things really that bad for someone in my position?"

Werner ran a hand over the back of his neck, and for a fleeting minute, he appeared torn before speaking. He returned to his knees before her and gently took her hand as he often had when she was a girl crying about her father's negligence or her mother's position or a lost toy or a distant friend. "Do not become what you do not need to be. You do not need to be like your father to rule a kingdom. You do not need to be like your mother to have respect. You do not need to be like your husband to inspire others. You do not need to change yourself to become a great leader; you only need to grow into the best version of yourself. You are already everything that you need to be. You needn't be more."

Asta smiled, heartened.

"So, tell me, how bad is your arm?" he asked, releasing her hand. "I would rather not send you with Falk if you cannot defend yourself."

"I am feeling better, but I do not think I can wield a bow properly." Her hurt arm throbbed and she brought her free hand to rest over her elbow. She dropped her gaze to her lap. "Is it truly okay that I go with Commander Falk?"

"Why would it not be?"

"Because I can't do anything."

"You can't do anything? You remembered your mother's map of Corrin and if we can find and destroy those tunnels, we are one step closer to seizing control of this country." Werner stood once more. "Meet me tomorrow morning, we will practice and make certain your aim is as good as I remember it." He offered her his hand. "Come, allow me to escort you to your husband."

Asta took his hand.

Werner wrapped her arm around his and guided her outside.

"I apologize for not being there to protect your father," he told her.

"You do not need to apologize," Asta replied.

"Your father was once a great man, but he allowed power to corrupt him." Werner stopped in the middle of an empty dirt path between two tents as sound filled the air with life. He turned to her. "I never doubted that he loved you, but I did not agree with the way he chose to show it."

"Thank you, I appreciate it." Asta looked up at Werner, feeling more comfortable. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Go ahead."

She debated making the inquiry, afraid of his reaction, and fidgeted. "I, uhm, you see, do you, uhm—"

Werner waited with a patient smile.

She imagined if anyone would ask the least questions it would be Werner as she recalled the day she tried to say goodbye to her father and swore to high heaven that she saw him rise. "Do you think it is possible to see the dead?"

His expression turned bemused. "See the dead?"

She nodded.

"No, I do not think I have ever heard of an instant where that was possible." Werner grinned, sheepish. "Where did you hear this?"

"N-No, it was only a thought." She spotted Kouen in the corner of her eye and released Werner's arm. "I see Kouen, I am going with him."

"Good night."

"Night."

She turned to leave.

"Ah, Asta."

She halted, looking back at him. "Yes?"

"Did you bring anyone with you?"

"Carina and Aghi, but they won't join us until tomorrow."

"I'll make certain they remain assigned to you."

"Please, use them where their talents are most useful, Commander Falk will be enough for me."

"It never hurts to have extra security for one's princess, so I would prefer they stay with you. I will make the arrangements for them."

She let the conversation drop, agreeing with a nod.

Asta rejoined Kouen, who she learned had been introduced to Egil Vång. She was curious about his opinion on the man, but could not bring herself to ask him for it. Egil, as far as their acquaintance went, appeared to be a gentle man whose sole interest was in smiting. He was completely harmless when compared to other Ionian House members.

Once they made it to their tent, Asta drank in her surroundings with amazement as she removed her coat, though she should not have expected lesser comfort for her husband. The floor was blanketed in rich colored rugs of matching patterns, there was an area full of throw pillows where she assumed they would sleep given every other place looked uncomfortable, and there was a table inside with several scrolls sticking out of a narrow tube that Kouen approached upon entering. Kouen unfurled one of the giant scrolls atop the table, revealing an unmarked map of Corrin.

"Asta."

"Hm?"

He held out a bottle to her. "This is a gift from Egil Vång."

Asta took it from him and stared at the label starry-eyed. It was the same brand her aunt gave them when she visited the castle. The label alone tempted her to try it and determine for herself if it was as good as it was rumored. She stopped herself because it was late. If she drank, she would end up wide awake with nothing to do. She returned it to the table and commented on how polite it was of him to bring them a gift.

"You should sleep," he suggested.

"And you?" she asked, curious.

He waved her off without offering her a direct response and she went to make herself comfortable for bed. It was not until she finished getting out of her stuffy clothing, unbraiding her hair, and washing her face clean that she felt the heaviness of exhaustion possess her body, weighing her down. She went to sleep as soon as she rested her head on a pillow.

She ran opposite of the world. The sky, a gaping hole below her, the floor, a wasteland of corpses, and she stood rooted to both ends. One connection was physical, the other was without explanation, but the two warred with one another and one was stronger, but her attachment was stronger. An explosion transformed the realm, lifted her from the wasteland, and cast her into the blue waters. The splash hit her back hard, bruised it black and blue, and the sea foam melted into itself to create human shapes that moved against the surface's iridescent reflection. As she sank deeper, she felt she could attach names to the figures, but as the waters transitioned from blue to black, the temperature dropping in the darkness until her skin numbed and her insides began to freeze, a shining light in her periphery drew her attention. Its brightness blinded her, but upon adjusting, she saw Kouen's silhouette, his hands holding a fiery star.

And when the sea spit her out onto marble floors, she rose to her feet, her sodden clothes clinging to her slight frame. She tasted the air as if it were her first time filling her lungs with oxygen and stumbled on her wobbly legs, searching her surroundings for an exit. Instead of finding a way out, she found a silver chalice, one that she saw on four different occasions, and approached it. Cautious, she peered inside and discovered a drop of black liquid sliding down its gray surface to the bottom.

Cold stabbed into her skin as another joined her in the room, manifested from the air, and pressed themselves to her back. Arms wrapped around her, one at her waist, the other at her neck, and a cold mouth touched her cheek in greeting.

"Asta."

Asta jolted awake. Her skin cold despite the weight of a woolen blanket and fur coverlet were on her back. Her heart raced erratically. She turned over. The bit of illumination that slipped through the upper tent provided enough light for her to make out her surroundings. Frightened by the strange dream, she appreciated she did not sleep alone and when she decided to continue sleeping, she slid a little closer to Kouen, enough that the natural heat of his body warmed her cold skin.

{ **ii** }

Werner took Asta to Egil Vång who set in the far end of the encampment near a clearing in front of several tropical trees. The head of House Vång was a man with great upper body strength and the bulky arms to show for it. His brown hair was trimmed short, his skin was bronze and covered in soot, and his face was sculpted. The huge man stood beside a scorching flame and a black anvil. He lowered the hammer in his hand and abandoned his work on a long sword.

Egil got down on his knee and bowed. "My queen."

He did not stand until she gestured for him to do so.

"How can I serve you?" asked Egil.

"I remember you mentioning that you had a bow lying around," said Werner, looking behind Egil at the weapon rack. "Our princess is in need of a weapon."

"Yes, give me a moment." Egil slipped into a tent behind the rack and returned after a beat, presenting her with a beautifully crafted bow. "I do hope it is to your liking, my queen."

Asta took it from his hands and admired its quality. She flicked the bowstring to check its tautness, wrapped her hand over the grip, and asked for an arrow to test it. Egil placed one in her hand and she raised the bow as she nocked the arrow, attaching it to the bowstring. She pulled it back with her right hand until the string sat near the corner of her mouth, feeling her healing shoulder tense.

Werner guided her arm to a narrow space between two tents where a wooden board sat with a single document pinned to it. "Aim dead center."

She felt his hand leave her and she zeroed in on the center of the document. She released the arrow and watched it hit the upper left corner of the paper. She messed up. Her aim was shaky.

"You haven't been practicing."

Asta relaxed, lowering the bow. "No, Lady Bo doesn't really like me hunting."

Werner frowned. "Well, you can hit a target, so you haven't slipped too far back."

"I have not yet made my mind up on going," she clarified.

"We are in foreign land and in the midst of war, whether you remain here or go with Falk, you need to be prepared for any assault," said Werner. "You must carry a weapon with you at all times. Even the best guards fall."

She swallowed hard, holding the bow in both hands. "I am no good—"

"I did not spend half my youth teaching you to fight to have you say you are no good," Werner interrupted. "This is not a good time to doubt yourself."

She smiled politely and turned to Egil. She awkwardly returned the bow to him and inclined her head. "It is a beautiful bow, but I cannot use it."

She regretted accompanying Kouen.

Egil did not take it from her. "Consider it a gift, my queen," said Egil. He brought up a quiver full of arrows and held them out to her. "Take these as well."

Asta pushed the bow into Werner's hands and turned away swiftly. "Excuse me."

She sprinted away from them, throwing herself back into the camp as Werner shouted after her. She returned to her tent where she sank into a seat among the many cushions. She folded her knees up to her chest and rested her face atop them, sealing her eyes shut.

War was difficult for her. The conditions, the electricity in the air, the overbearing presences, the dangers, and the possibilities awakened new fears in her. She struggled to sympathize with their cause because she did not believe it was possible to create the world Kouen claimed was his country's goal. She hated violence and blood and death. And it certainly did not help that she was losing her mind or that she was having weird dreams again.

She groaned. She should have listened to Bo and stayed in Io Castle with Koumei, but _no_, she wanted to follow Kouen around on his conquest of Corrin. What did she have to offer? There was no intimacy between them. Their nights were spent sleeping in awkward discomfort with one another, especially since he told her that she spoke Johan's name in her sleep. That was humiliating.

Not only that she was constantly worried about whether or not Kouen found her charming every time they were together and she stumbled upon an instant where her empty mind filled with terrible questions. She wondered if the lump of wood comparison was constant or intermittent. She dealt better with the latter because it was not quite as depressing as the former, but as soon as she grew comfortable with the conversation happening in her head, she started to ask herself if she genuinely cared whether Kouen found her charming or not. She did not have an answer to that other than imagining the disappointment in Bo's face if she were to find out his opinion of her was so poor, not that she doubted her caretaker didn't already know. She did not doubt half of Bo's work had been extra vigorous as a result.

Werner entered her tent in a rush with the bow and quiver in hand. "Asta."

Huffing, he bent forward to rest his hands on his slightly bent knees, his blond ponytail spilling from his shoulder and the metal pieces of his armor clinking or screeching as they made contact with one another. He held his finger up to preserve the silence as he worked to compose himself.

"Werner?" she asked, concerned.

He took another gulp of air after straightening, one back on his lower back as if the swift motion pained him. "Don't make me do that again."

Asta jumped to her feet. "I'll get you a drink."

"No, I'm okay. Just never make me chase you through half the encampment again. It's too much for someone my age."

"You are not _that _ancient."

"I find your tone incredibly offensive." Returned to equanimity, Werner walked to her and guided her back into a seat among the cushions, joining her noisily. He set the bow and quiver of arrows he received from Egil to his left. "Why are you running away?"

"I don't want to talk about it." Asta returned to the fetal position, wrapping her arms around her knees tight. "I just want to be alone."

"I did not run a mile for you to just say you want to be alone! I am exhausted and I'm staying here until you spit it out!" he exclaimed.

She rested her cheek on the top of her knee, looking at him. "I should not have come," she admitted. "I dislike war. I am afraid of my position. Brita humiliated Kouen and I in front of everyone and I'm scare of what will become of that incident were it to spread, the Ionian House doesn't trust the Kou Empire, and my marriage is barely functional. I am upset about the fate of the Tassos sisters that I cannot help but feel Prince Nikias is justified in his defense, so how can I possibly be okay with us taking over his country. And then, then Kouen tells me that his country's ultimate goal is to unite the world under one rule to get rid of war."

Werner did not bat an eyelash. "Sacrifices need to be made for a better future."

She remained silent. She was out of arguments.

"If you understand that, let us go somewhere to get you used to the new bow," he said, thrusting it into her hands. "You can tell me all about your other worries on the way. And don't make that face. We're going even if I have to drag you."

Asta got on her feet reluctantly. "I am going already! You don't need to threaten me."

Werner took her out into the vast greenery beyond the narrow passageway through the mountains where the encampment was settled. They walked for several minutes up a slope and moved onto higher ground where Asta could see a trail of white rooftops sprouting from among the trees into the cities surrounding the Corrinean capital. Werner guided her through a heavily shaded and leveled clearing.

He handed her the quiver of arrows on his way to a tree covered in drooping fruit. He took a ripe guava from a bent branch and switched it from one hand to the other. "We'll do still targets first and do moving once you have a handle on the bow," he stated, taking a bite of the guava. "Now, do not force yourself to do more than your arm can."

"Okay," she said, feeling a twinge of anxiety. She held the bow's grip and pulled back the string halfway to test its tautness.

"First target is up there," said Werner, pointing to a fruit sitting at the top of the tree sitting a meter away. He returned to her side. "Straight through, understood?"

She swallowed hard, keeping her eye on it even as she nocked an arrow. She pulled it and the arrow far back. Her aim was unsteady. Her hands were trembling.

"Asta, breathe, relax."

She retracted the string slightly and the arrow fell. She tried to catch it, but failed.

Werner picked it up for her. "Let's try that again. This time, take a deep breath before nocking. There's no need for you to be nervous. You have done this thousands of times."

She had. Werner had patiently taught her how to use a bow for weeks on end and had practiced with her for years until she had been able to hit a target where she put her eye. After he had picked up teaching her how fight with a sword when her father had grown frustrated with her lack of progress, he had offered her a bow, which he had found better suited for her. She had preferred it to the proximity of sword fighting.

"Elbow up."

She shook off her nerves, positioned her body in the proper stance—her feet spread at shoulder-width and stood upright, thinking of her comfort as each breath that she took helped relax her. She took the fallen arrow from Werner and drew it straight across the arrow rest. She nocked it against the string as she raised her weapon upward, zeroing in on the reddish fruit dangling from the top of the tree. Wind rustled the leaves around it, moving it into a gentle sway. She drew the string back into an anchor point with three fingers. She lifted her elbow to relieve her sore arm muscles and created a comfortable position.

"Perfect stance," Werner complimented. "Shoot when—"

She released the arrow and watched it stab through the reddish fruit before its weight dragged her projectile off its intended trajectory. It dropped into a shrubbery several feet away with a _thud_.

Werner swallowed the fruit in his mouth. "Next target, two branches down, the hidden one there."

Asta took another arrow from her quiver, confident that she could hit any other target if she did not overthink things or let her nerves get the best of her, when she heard a branch snap.

She reflexively lifted her bow with her arrow notched and pointed it in the direction from which she heard the noise. For that split second, everything was eerily still, but the instant the bead of sweat fell from her brow, something silver spiraling in her direction caught the sunlight and she felt Werner shove her to the ground. She released her arrow as she fell and it flew into the trees.

"Stay down," Werner ordered, running into the forest with his sword drawn.

Asta found a dagger stabbed on the ground near her feet. Her heart raced in trepidation. Her whole body shook as she raised herself onto a seat, worried for Werner after the sound of his footsteps disappeared.

"Asta!"

She startled. "Werner?"

"Come here!"

She got on her feet and followed the sound of his voice. She moved quietly past several fruit trees until she spotted Werner crouched down beside a fallen man with an arrow sticking out of his shoulder. He was wiping his sword clean on a handkerchief.

Asta turned her face away when she saw the deep cut across his neck. "Who was he?"

"He was a Corrinean spy," Werner told her, standing. "We need to return to camp. Let's go."

Asta and Werner returned to the camp where they went straight to Kouen to inform him about their run in with the Corrinean spy.

"Was he the only one?" asked Kouen.

"The only one I found."

"As we cannot guarantee that, we should assume Asta has become a target."

Asta plopped down in the nearest chair with a huff, upset with the fact that she could not go anywhere without having a bullseye on her back.

"Can I go nowhere?" she asked loudly.

Kouen and Werner directed their stares at her and normally, that would have daunted her into silence, but she felt the anger boiling in her stomach urging her on. Was it for this same exact reason why her father limited her outings? Had she been a target from the start?

"Am I to have no freedom? Am I to be reduced to some palace dweller for the rest of my life because I am always going to have a marker on me?"

"You should not expect any less from your position," said Kouen.

"I understand that, but I am starting to feel like a universal target. I am being used by others at a high frequency and I feel like I have no say in any of it!" She tightened her hands into tight firsts, her knuckles blanched. "It's so frustrating!"

"Use your visibility to your advantage," suggested Kouen. Her attention snapped to him. "You are targeted because people are aware that you are a naive princess that never leaves her castle or her Castle Guard behind. You are also a known pacifist. Those are people's perceptions of you, but you are more than that and only few people know the real you."

Asta stood and walked to Kouen's side. She understood she would need to be strong, as Brita once told her. She did not have the luxury of being as harmless as everyone expected her to be, though that frightened her a bit, she only needed to remind herself that she was an Ionian princess and that she had the same warrior blood as Io running through her veins. Although she understood that did not mean she was automatically the keeper of untapped potential—life did not work that way—she did view it as a reason to have more confidence in herself.

"I will go to Commander Falk to find and destroy the underground tunnel," she decided, tightening her hold on her bow. "Now, I'll be outside practicing with this bow. Excuse me."

Werner beamed at her with pride as she headed for the entrance of the tent.

"Take someone with you," Kouen said before she stepped out.

Asta breathed in and exhaled, shuddering. She found a group of soldiers seated around a fire pit after a little bit of walking and asked for a volunteer, unaware that all of them would speak up to offer their services. She left the encampment with the protection of seven soldiers and with their urging found a different area to practice.

She shot arrows at makeshift targets the soldiers helped her make until the sunset and the army was rounded to receive new orders from their commanding officers.

That night, Asta went to Kouen with a roll of gauze before she would sleep. He sat back in his chair, moving away a few inches from the table.

"Would you mind helping me with this?" she asked. She wanted to give her arm the proper support overnight before subjecting her sore muscles to more practice shooting. "I would normally ask an attendant, but…well, Hua won't be here until tomorrow."

He took it from her hand and stood, staring down at her as he slowly turned the roll between his forefinger and thumb. "Disrobe."

Asta flushed the instant he took a step closer to her. She tugged her arm out of the sleeve and offered it to him. He touched the underside of it, his cold fingers made her recoil.

"Stop moving."

"Your hands are cold."

"That can't be helped." He started to wrap the gauze from the top of her arm, over her shoulder and under her armpit. "Is this too tight?"

"N-No, it-it's good." She swallowed thickly and lowered her eyes when he stared at her disconcerted. A second brush of his cold fingers made her skin tremble and her stomach flipped as her level of self-consciousness rose to dangerous heights. She cursed how determined she appeared to make a simple favor appear awkward.

He wordlessly took the sling she held in her other arm and helped her tie it at the base of her neck. "Comfortable?"

"Yes, thank you," she said, cupping her free hand under her elbow. She turned her attention to the map on the table briefly. "Do you need help with anything?"

Kouen scrubbed his thumb across her cheek, startling her. "Your face is red."

She flushed. "I-It's hot here."

"How well do you remember your mother's map of Corrin?"

"Well," she said, patting her cheeks in the hopes it chased the color from them. "It helps to look at your map, but the finer details are blurry."

"Come."

Kouen guided her to the front of the map. He stood so close to her side that she could hear the sound of his breathing. His voice sounded richer in his proximity. He started to explain the strategy he gave Brenna Falk to pursue on her task and it warmed her to feel included in the plan.

"Do you understand?" he asked, lowering his eyes to her face.

She lifted her face, realizing they were quite close. She felt her cheeks heat. "Yes."

"I will come for you if you find yourself in serious danger."

Her heart skipped a beat as she stared at him dumbfounded. "O-Okay."

"I have kept you up long enough," he said, "you should sleep."

"Y-You should j-join…you should too," she blurted. She blamed her behavior on his proximity. She was not used to men standing close to her. She could think of a prior occasion and it involved Johan, which confused her. "I m-mean, it's late, and you rise e-early."

"I will."

Asta's lower lip trembled. "Good night."

She went straight to sleep, but woke a few minutes later with Kouen's name on her tongue after having the same dream again.

"Did you forget something?"

Asta turned towards the angled table where Kouen sat, appearing exhausted with the harsh lighting enhancing the black circles around his eyes and his defined bone structure. His face did not frighten her, not as it used to. His state worried her as her heart pounded loudly in her head. Her dream of darkness and the chalice rewound in her head, a bitter taste invaded her mouth.

She shuddered. "Don't drink anything that did not come from the ship."

"What?"

"Just don't do it," she said firmly.

He observed her in disbelief as she reclined into the pillows and dragged the blanket over her chest. She turned over, her back to him, and questioned her words. Did she say that because she kept having the same dream or because it started to feel like a warning?

{ **iii** }

"Is he telling you dirty jokes?" asked Carina, making Asta jolt.

Her face grew a deeper shade of red. "What?"

"Every time Prince Kouen speaks one word to you, your face turns red," she pointed out. "I was only asking if he was saying inappropriate things to you during each exchange as that would explain your reaction better than the alternative."

"What alternative?"

"The crush alternative," said Carina and Aghi simultaneously.

Asta stood between her two guards, who had joined her at camp with Hua in tow at the break of dawn. Both towered over her, though Aghi was several feet shorter than Carina. He was a dark-skinned man with an attractive face and a lean but muscular build. His eyes were almond shaped and a brilliant green hue and his hair was short, jet-black, and wavy. Unlike Carina, who wore her plated armor, he dressed casually in a tight shirt and comfortable pants partnered with boots.

Her jaw slackened. "The _what _alternative."

"Crush," said Carina.

"Do you have a crush on Prince Kouen?"

She looked from Carina to Aghi. She could feel her entire body flushing. "What? N-No! I've known him for a little over a fortnight! I c-couldn't possibly—"

"You knew Commander Ek for a day," said Aghi. "If I remember correctly, you said it was love at first sight."

"Johan was different!"

"Do you have a thing for military men, Asta?" asked Carina, smiling from ear to ear.

"Oh yeah. Didn't she used to have a crush on Sigge?"

"Yes, when he was a recruit!"

Carina and Aghi laughed.

"No! I didn't!" shouted Asta.

"You do have a type," said Carina.

"And guess who fits right in?"

"Stop that! I do not!" cried Asta, embarrassed.

Carina put her hand on her shoulder. "It's perfectly fine for you to develop a little crush on Prince Kouen," she said. "He is your husband. I mean, you're going to have to tolerate him for the rest of your life."

"He is very kind, but I don't—I don't have those kinds of feelings for him," said Asta.

"What kind of feelings?"

The three of them jumped at the sound of Hua's voice. Hua handed Asta a glass of water.

"Sorry about the wait," said Hua, looking expectantly at everyone. "What feelings?"

"We were talking about my feelings—"

"—for Prince Kouen," finished Carina.

Hua's face brightened.

"Don't misunderstand! I don't have a crush on—he's very nice to me and—"

"She will be head over heels in love with him long before Corrin is conquered."

"That could be a matter of days," said Hua excitedly. "Lady Bo will be very pleased."

"I don't like him!"

Carina whispered something into Aghi's ear that made him giggle.

"What?" she demanded.

"Princess?"

Asta whirled around to see Werner. "Yes?"

Carina and Aghi composed themselves long enough to offer him the proper uptight greeting he deserved as a senior commander. "Good afternoon, Senior Commander Werner!"

"G'afternoon," he responded cheerily. "Thank you for taking care of the princess in my absence."

"It is an honor," the two responded.

"Although, next time the princess has a confrontation with Lady Tjäder, be certain it is not on a horse," said Werner.

Carina and Aghi kept their heads down. "Yes sir."

"Are you feeling well?" asked Werner. "I noticed your face was red when you were speaking to his majesty."

Asta's face burned. "W-Wh-Whaaat?"

"It would seem the princess has developed feelings for the prince," said Hua. "It is a momentous occasion."

Carina and Aghi sniggered.

"Good," Werner said with a satisfied nod. "You are finally looking at a man that suits you."

"That is not true—what's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, you do have a preference."

"What?"

"Military men—Sigge, Myron, Alaric, Nero, Johan."

Each name spoken brought on the faces of each man that she had developed crushes on throughout her youth. Her embarrassment doubled.

"Myron of Lorah?" asked Aghi.

"Oh yeah," said Carina, smirking. "She tried to stow away on his ship when he was leaving, remember?"

Aghi snickered, nodding his head as the memory seemed to have dawned on him.

Werner laughed weakly. "I spent the entire day kissing the floor trying to convince King Hákon it was a misunderstanding."

"I remember Alaric of Nohr and Nero of Hassah," said Carina, and then turned to Aghi. "Didn't you have a thing for Nero of Hassah too?"

Werner laughed, patting Asta's shoulder. "You were given the cold shoulder for months. This one was jealous of the attention you were getting."

"Well, did you ever take him up on his offer?" asked Carina, nudging Aghi's side.

Aghi coughed into his fist. "When would I ever find the time to travel to Hassah? I am a member of the Castle Guard."

"Nero of Hassah? Alaric of Nohr? Myron of Lorah?" Hua looked to Carina for answers as Asta stewed in her own embarrassment.

She had forgotten all about Myron, Alaric, and Nero until Werner brought them up. She had not thought about them because her love for Johan had erased her memories of every crush she experienced before.

"Just three men of a short list of crushes that your Prince Kouen just joined," Carina explained.

"Oh my, we best not mention the list to Lady Bo. She will be happy enough to know that the princess is in love with Prince Kouen."

"I am not in love with him!"

"You can't deny he's your type, though," said Aghi.

"It doesn't hurt that you both have been getting along better," added Carina. She reached forward to pinch Asta's cheeks. "You look so cute with your cheeks all red."

Asta pushed her hands away and covered her reddened cheeks. "Stop it! I do not like him!"

"Enough teasing," said Werner. "Princess, you should be packed and ready to move out at sundown. Eklund, you will accompany the princess with Commander Falk. Olander, you're with me and Prince Kouen."

Asta ran away from Carina and Aghi as soon as Werner was called away by another commander. Hua followed her inside her tent where she offered to aid her in packing a bag. She stored the bare minimum into her a small leather pack—a flask of water, a kit of first aid items, and an extra change of clothes.

Werner dropped in after Asta finished dressing into comfortable riding clothes and the appropriate gear when the sun hung low behind the highest mountain peak in sight from the camp, the sky darkening from orange to violet. Hua exited her tent with a bow.

He reached behind him to take the dagger from his belt and presented it to her. "You should carry extra protection on you at all times."

"Thank you." She took it from him and looked for a place to conceal it on her persona. She tucked it inside her wide belt. She lifted her face up. "Take care of yourself, Werner. Also, do keep track of the people that get near Kouen."

"The people? Is there something I should know about?" asked Werner.

"I have a bad feeling."

Werner smiled lightly. "You have nothing to worry about. The prince is capable of taking care of himself."

"Please do me this favor."

"Anything for you, princess."

"Thank you."

Kouen stepped inside the tent as Werner started to leave. She thanked her cousin again and waited for him to go before moving to stand at Kouen's side. She did feel her anxiety kick as she began to dread leaving to complete her task.

She had never done anything like this before, though she had grown up understanding the expectations people had of her because she was princess of a warrior country like Ione. Those expectations had included her mother's, which she had sworn to uphold, but she had fears that she had neither the skill nor the personality that was required of the occupation. She had been raised on epics starring Io, the Four Valkyries, who were Io's daughters, the Wolf Princes, who traveled the world and returned to Ione with sacred treasures characterized by their eight-pointed stars, and the queens that succeeded the Ionian throne. Each ruler had a story, though most had not reached their climax or had a good ending; there had always been a beginning. Asta had enjoyed listening to these stories, believing them to be mostly made up for entertainment's value, but there had been more truth in them than fable.

"Are you afraid?"

Asta jumped, startled by Kouen's voice. "W-What?"

"You're shaking."

She took her left hand into her right and held it tight, hoping that would stop her trembling. "Corrin tends to get cold at this time of year." She shook her head. She did not even sound the least bit convincing. "I'm sorry, I am terrified. What if something goes wrong? What if I'm wrong? What if people get hurt? What if I freeze up?"

"That is the nature of war."

"I jus—I just don't want to disappoint anyone."

He touched her shoulder. "Then don't."

Asta frowned. "That doesn't help."

"I am trusting your information and relying on your success to ensure the conquest of Corrin."

Her heart sank. She felt an insurmountable amount of pressure after hearing him say that. She took his hand from her shoulder and held it a moment longer than intended before she released him, feeling her cheeks warm.

"Please take care of yourself," she said tremulously, heading for the exit. "N-Now, I should go find Commander Falk. Excuse me."

"Asta."

She turned to him.

"One of my soldiers will be close to you. If you are in any danger that you cannot overcome yourself or with the others, I will be contacted."

"Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me. You are important to"—Asta's freckled face transitioned with color—"the cause."

Asta's disappointment registered in her expression. Honestly, Asta could not fathom the idea of having a crush on Kouen. He did not see her as anything but a convenience that came with a powerful army and the ability to provide his legacy heirs. She told herself not to see him different because they were helping one another. The two benefited from getting along. He kept his powerful army to aid in his country's conquest of the Byzen Cluster and she could remain in Ione ensuring her people lived in peace.

Despite the thoughts in her head reaffirming the reality that she was all too familiar with, her brain turned to mush when it came time to speak and her tone mirrored the disillusionment her face expressed. "Oh."

He frowned.

Taken aback, she asked, "What?"

"Nothing," he said, turning his back on her. "Do well alongside Commander Falk and return to my side."

He meant to ensure she wasn't skewered in battle, but her heart skipped a beat despite her understanding the true meaning of the words.

"I will."

{ **iv** }

Asta joined Commander Falk after leaving the tent. Her smaller army was the first to depart in the hopes of using the cover of night to guide them to their destination. After the tunnels she singled out were destroyed, one by Falk's army and the other by another group under a different command while two other groups searched for the other hidden channels, Kouen's army would be poised to attack if the demolition lured Nikias from the danger zone.

As Kouen mentioned to her, a soldier named Wei from Kou kept her well within his sights as they traversed the tiring mountainous country. The main roads were avoided by their group, but Kouen and Werner's troops would take them to distract the attention from their movements. Although, there were Ionian soldiers patrolling the conquered half of the island, many precautions were taken to see that the plan resulted in success.

Their group reached the outskirts of Atros, the alabaster capital atop the evergreen hill, on their second night having had to go around all the shortcuts. It was there that Brenna Falk handed Asta the map and asked her to lead the rest of the way. It took some aid from the surrounding soldiers before Asta made sense of the map, recalling her mother's into her mind as she compared the pieces that she remembered to those on the map in her hands. Once she pointed them into the right direction, their group split up into smaller teams to scavenge the area for any sign of anything manmade.

"Prince Kouen is an admirable leader," commented Brenna, sighing as if imagining him in some extraordinary way that made Asta uncomfortable to look at her.

Asta looked at her profile oddly. "He is."

"He has a lot of confidence in you as well."

She lowered her eyes, finding Brenna's tone condescending. "It appears so."

"You should stick to what you know," said Brenna, getting in her face.

Asta avoided eye contact, afraid it would give her more power if she did. She wished she could find a way to stop people from antagonizing her. "I am. For that reason I am here."

"I meant castle sitting with all of your lapdogs," she said harshly.

Her words pierced her and spread through her chest like a bad ache. However hurt she felt, it frustrated her. She was tired of being a target for people's bile, especially when she did nothing to provoke their anger.

She fixed her eyes on Brenna's. "If you have a problem with my presence, say it. Stop hiding behind all your little jabs."

Brenna did not back down. She inched closer to her. "You are a burden. My unit has no place for useless princesses that are better off at home being spoiled by their servants." She glanced derisively at the bow sitting on her shoulder and the quiver at her side. "A little bow and a few arrows don't change the fact that you are unskilled and unnecessary to our cause. It is a wonder how low the late king needed to stoop to have someone of Prince Kouen's caliber marry you."

Was this about Kouen as well? Asta questioned herself as she took each insult with an inexpressive face, though she wanted nothing more than to dissolve into tears. She withheld her inclination by reminding herself that she was a princess and that the success of their conquest depended on the destruction of the tunnels she knew existed apart from the one Prince Nikias took from his palace in Atros. She would not let herself be bullied by Brenna who called her useless and disliked her for it and probably wanted to steal her husband—not that she cared if she tried. Well, not unless Kouen found Brenna's type attractive. She did have a womanly form underneath the metal plating of her armor and men did seem to like curvy bodies with large breasts. Although, Brenna concealed her ample bosom well under tight wrappings, Asta knew they existed and their potential power over men intimidated her.

_Wait a minute_—she stopped thinking about Brenna's feminine wiles. It would only depress her to come to any conclusion that meant Kouen found her more charming than she, who according to him possessed the allure of a lump of wood. Also, she was not going to fight over Kouen because one, she did not like him and two he could have concubines if he wanted. She did want to know if she would be allowed to approve or reject them before they entered his harem, though.

But what if he ended up liking one of them better? What if one of those concubines ended up being Brenna Falk and Asta had no say in her becoming one? Would she be damned to live the rest of her married life to Kouen enduring her nastiness towards her? She wondered if Kouen would care enough to say anything to her, like _"I chose Asta as my bride and you must too."_

Her imagination took over.

Did that mean she would have to sleep with his concubines? Wait—would his concubines become her concubines? Did that mean it would be her harem as well? She did not think Brenna would want to share Kouen much. She would probably keep him to herself. She was not a fan of voyeurism either.

Those would not be happy circumstances.

In the back of her head, she could hear Lady Bo protest against concubines. _"I will not have one of my girls be set aside for a concubine!"_ The sound of her angered voice snapped her back into the reality of Brenna's hate filled glare and the hard line of her mouth set in an attractive scowl. A fiery curl sat over her left temple, a sharp contrast to her white flesh. Her face was round, her eyes a brilliant hazel with specks of green along the irises, and her neck slender, her shoulders small. She possessed natural beauty and elegance despite her well-earned occupation. She was a powerful martial artist, an expert with a broadsword, and excellent with a bow. Her military record was pristine—a quick succession of the ranks, landing her current position at the quaint age of twenty, and numerous awards in recognition of her leadership skills and abilities.

She was the perfect woman for a military minded man like Kouen.

Asta forced a smile, feeling the claws of jealousy at her back. "I will do my best to stay out of your way, Commander Falk."

Brenna huffed, folding her arms across her armored chest. "You better—"

"Princess, Commander Falk!" Aghi's voice pierced the tension between them. "We found something over here."

Brenna stalked off in Aghi's direction first. Asta followed several steps behind, trying to shake the feeling in order to refocus her attention on the prospect of a tunnel having been discovered. She paused beside Aghi and watched as a trio of soldiers revealed a hole overlain with beaten planks of wood underneath the wide shade of a massive tree. The trio set aside the patch of grass that had been used to cover the entrance before they started to force the planks up. A number of them were nailed together as an extra precaution.

"You were right, princess," one soldier praised, his face full of delight. "There is a passage through here."

Asta stole a glance at Brenna's face, catching a hint of a grimace before she snapped around and ordered the rest of her unit to stop their searches and rejoin them.

They were staring at a steel entrance once the wood stapled over it had been removed completely. The passageway seemed to have been ignored for years given the state in which they had found it, covered by planks that were hammered into place underneath the patch of land draped above it.

A keyhole on the bottom center of the entrance concerned Brenna, who knelt before their find. A soldier before had tried to pull the rectangular opening, but it was sealed so tight that his blade lodged in the narrow space between steal and earth did nothing to its state.

Asta raised her eyes to Aghi, her blabber-mouthed guard that cracked under the pressure of authority who spent several years of his youth looting the noble houses with a band of crooks that eventually tried to have him take the blame for all their crimes. "Aghi, please unlock it."

Aghi inclined his head. "As you wish, princess."

He went down to one knee in front of the entrance while rummaging through a small pouch he wore slung across his armored chest. Brenna moved enough to give him access to the keyhole, standing when she assumed he needed more space as he placed a tiny scroll of black canvas on his knee. Unfurling it, he exposed a number of small tools to an audience of curious eyes. He enjoyed the attention, she knew by the way his shoulders turned as if in anticipation and smiled, happy that he found excitement in what was turning out to be a lousy experience after her confrontation with Brenna.

He picked out a pair of tools that he jammed in through the keyhole and moved them around the tiny gap, searching. He bent forward as his concentration deepened and the stubborn lock remained unyielding.

Asta's heart beat quickened in anticipation, fearing a bad outcome.

She heard something click and Aghi wiped his brow with the back of his hand before asking a nearby soldier to help him raise the steel entrance. Its hinges protested noisily as they pushed it back onto the grass, exposing a narrow staircase made from stone that disappeared into the deep darkness of the tunnel.

Aghi joined her side as he clapped his hands clean of dirt. He grinned upon meeting her eyes, proud of his accomplishment, easy as it was. "How about some praise?"

She clapped for him. "Beautiful work, Aghi."

He took her hand, bowing lowly as he lifted it to kiss the top of it. "Anything for you, princess."

Asta felt Brenna glaring at the side of her head. She avoided looking at her, focusing instead on the soldiers that volunteered to head down into the tunnel first with freshly lit torches. Aghi was surrounded by many that wished to congratulate him on picking the lock or to ask him about how he did it. Her guard was more than happy to accept the praise, but evaded giving his secrets away.

The two soldiers, each carrying a torch, descended the stone staircase single file. The light emanating from the fires blazing over the combustible cloth tied at the end of their sticks did not penetrate the deep darkness completely. It shrouded them in an orange globe that helped the maneuver their way down until they had descended enough that soft illumination was a mere spark.

Asta flooded with dread. Fears ran rampant in her head as the impregnable darkness called forth the repetitive dream she had endured since she boarded the ship to Corrin. Pitch black filled with sinister presences. A chalice in Kouen's hand overflowed with black poison. She watched, her feet frozen to the ground as if she were only meant to stand there while the nightmare revealed meaning hidden within its contents. Although, there were times in the reoccurring dream where she broke the cycle and did something different, like covering the top of the abundant cup. That tiny new detail left an impression on her that she expressed unconsciously to Kouen and Werner in dissimilar forms—asking her husband not to drink what was offer to him and Werner to track the of those that neared him. She did not expect Kouen to be in any danger, but it was a comfort to her to say the words. It felt like lifting a huge weight off her shoulders.

The heaviness sank across her back once more at the idea of traveling through the tunnel. She swallowed thickly, the anxiety lodged in her throat.

"Commander!" The low voice of one soldier echoed from within the darkness, sounding remote.

Not a moment later, his partner shouted, "Clear!"

Brenna broke apart her unit, ordering one half to remain stationed outside the entrance and the other were gestured swiftly towards the opening.

"We can't go down there," said Asta, the sound of her own voice shocked her. She blinked, noticing the others freeze in their place. "We can't go to the other side either."

"Are you insane?" criticized Brenna, stomping towards her until she took a step back to keep a safe distance from them. "These are direct orders from Prince Kouen!"

"But I have a bad feeling—"

"_Hah_! You have a bad feeling? Is that it?" Brenna mocked. "We are not going to put a stop to an operation as important as this because you had a bad feeling!"

What? "But—"

"We are going!" Turning to everyone, Brenna ordered, "Move it!"

Asta watched as the smaller half of their unit followed Brenna down the stone steps. She considered going to intercept Kouen and tell him that they couldn't go through the tunnel, but when the last three soldiers—among them the man trailing her under Kouen's orders—she could only think of completing the task.

She descended the stairs holding Aghi's hand tight. Brenna was right. She should not let something as silly as a bad feeling get in the way of completing their mission. She was wrong. Nothing would happen. According to the information her mother told her concerning the tunnels in her many adventure stories was that they were secure and roomy, enough to guide hundreds through to the other side.

And yet when she reached the last stair, she tightened her grip on Aghi's hand as they joined the others who stared in marvel of the chamber preceding the channel. Cold doubt sunk its unmerciful claws into her back. She prayed she was wrong.

"How deep does the tunnel run?" asked Brenna, looking over her shoulder at her.

"It runs for thirty miles."

"Eight to nine hours on foot," the commander determined. "If we move fast, we can shave off a significant amount of time. Let's go."

Brenna led her minimized unit after taking one of the torches from her soldier and illuminated the way. A second soldier handed his torch to Wei, who inclined his head slightly in appreciation.

Asta did not move. She did not blink. Her eyes were fixed on the arching entryway as the number of soldiers surrounding her shrank down to two: Aghi and Wei. The collective sounds of soft whispers, of metal knocking against metal, and of footsteps that echoed disappeared into the blackness that fell around them. She envisioned the ceiling falling and the ground shaking. She saw soldiers crushed under heavy debris and their blood spread underneath her feet. A flicker of light in her periphery snapped her from the dreadful reverie, jolted her back into reality, but left her with a warmth and familiarity that brought Kouen to mind.

She lowered her eyes, aware that her face reddened, Kouen was the furthest thing from warm and familiar to her, which made her think about how Carina and Aghi accused her of having a crush on him.

The quiet, baby-faced Kou Empire soldier watched her with a patient gaze, as though he could remain in place without growing frustrated with her hesitation.

Aghi squeezed her hand. "We should go before Commander Falk yells at us."

Asta nodded, allowing him to lead her through the tunnel. Wei trailed behind them silently.

They were able to catch up to the rest of their unit after several minutes.

The underground channel was built to perfection—paved even road, smooth walls, and tiled ceilings. There were small arches carved into the walls, each one spaced at a measured distance and held either metal pits that sparked with flames when the burning end of Brenna's torch met its surface or hidden supplies that were left untouched.

Brenna ignored the need to rest for as long as she could as the tunnel's temperature dropped. The oxygen seemed to have thinned after they walked across the center of the straight path. Exhaustion doubled the weight of everyone's armor that once their commander called for a rest; many opted to remove pieces off to spare their wailing muscles from the agony.

Asta drank water and sat in silence. All conversation was the same.

Movement started up after forty-five minutes of relaxation. A few rose reluctant, likely cursing their luck. Brenna rushed them.

"We will rest when we're dead. Exhaustion is for the weak." She wiped her brow of sweat; her skin bathed in the orange light emanating from the torch in her hand, darker highlights in her fiery hair glimmered.

"We are not far from the exit," added Asta. She thought Brenna could use an extra hand. "We have made it this far, we can make it the rest of the way."

Brenna scowled, turning away and gesturing for all to follow. They did, but Asta realized that a number fell several steps behind to join her and ask if she was tired.

The remainder of the tunnel was a long, debilitating trip that at the first sign of an exit, several soldiers propelled forward when the ceiling above them gave a violent shudder. Images flashed in her head of rocks falling from above and blood and she moved forward, against the wail in protest from her instinct, but an arm wrapped around her waist, throwing her to the ground.

A cavernous sound burst at the exit and the ceiling rained down in chunks. Asta's body was crushed under another's. Brenna ordered cover. Screams and shouts melded into one as debris hit the ground in a song of agonizing thuds.

Then the rumbling stopped and there was silence.

Dust swept under her nose and tickled her sinuses. She heard a groan above her as a burst of light shine down, blinding her. There was slow movement all around her.

"The princess?"

"Princess Asta."

Several voices came up and overlapped as urgency increased.

Asta raised her arm halfway as the weight above her lifted. "I'm here."

She turned her head to see Aghi flopping into his back and rising to a seat. A sharp piece of debris covered with blood drew her eyes to the avalanche of stones and wounded soldiers. Those that managed to avoid the blast were drawing their weapons or helping to dig out those that were buried under the rubble.

She checked on Wei, who shook his head to rid himself of the dust particles and pebbles, and found Brenna pushing away a tall slab of tiles stone that would have crushed her had it not hit the wall at an angle giving her an opportunity to duck. Asta went straight to Aghi, digging through her bad for the roll of gauze Hua packed for her.

He gnashed his teeth in pain when she touched the area surrounding the gash across his ankle. "It's going to be okay," she told him, pushing the roll underneath his ankle and started to unfurl it.

"Flame arrows!" cries a soldier at the top of the hill. He skidded down with several others.

The first arrow stabbed into the top of the rock hill, the flames licking the slate surface when a gust of wind called forth a dozen others that fell into the tunnel.

Asta moved on her own before her brain processed the danger she placed herself in when she covered Aghi's wound with her body. She felt Wei force her down when another quake shook the tunnel, startling her heart into a thundering race. The weakened ceiling gave in and collapsed another several feet. Large chunks fell to the ground and the flaming arrows sparked fire. Black smoke rose high, intoxicating them.

She blamed herself. She revealed the location of the tunnels.

"Prince Nikias leads the charge!"

Nikias.

"We must retreat!" ordered Brenna. She rushed past Asta, glaring at her. "This was _clearly_ a trap."

How did he know—?

The spy in the forest with Werner came to mind. After a second thought, she deduced there was more than one spy and that the other managed to escape. The conversation about having become a target resurfaced as well and Asta felt her heart sink to her stomach. If she was in Corrin and the prince knew that, she would divulge information on the tunnels, so he kept them guarded. That was it.

She recalled the Silver Prince visiting Ione before the relationship between their countries had fallen apart. She had brought him to her mother and she had shown him her maps.

A wall of fire slowly built to their backs across the rubble. The soldiers following Brenna halted further ahead and drew their swords as another group gave a battle cry and charged. Brenna's soldiers parried their attacks.

They were trapped by Corrinean soldiers—cornered into an inevitable death sentence. Their only chance at an escape was to defeat their opponents with the few people they had remaining, knowing there was no chance in receiving backup.

The soldiers clashed in a violent blur of gold and silver armor. Shouts rang over the sound of clanking in a code that reminded themselves that their remaining priority was to secure her passage back to Kouen.

Wei shielded her protectively, seeming hyper aware of their surroundings. He appeared prepared to stop any threat made against her. Aghi struggled to get back on his feet, readying himself despite the deep gash across his ankle threatening to weaken his step. It upset her to be pushed back as the others fought valiantly to preserve her life, willing to relinquish their own without a second thought.

Asta rose to her feet and walked towards the clash, but Aghi caught her arm, aware of her actions before she attached a name to them. Although, he succeeded in stopping her, she did not waver.

Thoughtlessly, with her heart racing and with her palms sweating, she sucked in a powerful breath and expelled it quickly from her body in the form of a declaration that echoed louder than the ringing and grinning of steal. "I am Asta of Ione!"

Brenna cut down an enemy and jerked around to face her with a glare. "Are you insane?"

"Stand down, Commander Falk!"

There were protests all around. Voices melted into one. The fighting ceased, both factions distracted by the sound of her name.

Aghi clutched her wrist, hoping that would be enough to secure her to him.

A deep, frightening voice shouted from the rear, "Asta of Ione?"

The crowd of gold armored men parted to allow a giant of a man pass. He fixed his black eyes on her and huffed. "What is a princess like you doing all the way out here?" He spied the bow hung from her arm and offered her a mock grin. "Are you playing at war?"

She felt herself losing her nerve, but tried to fortify herself. "L-Let my soldiers pass. T-Take me as your prisoner."

"No!" yelled Brenna.

"Princess, please don't," Aghi begged.

The man's smile widened. "Let your soldiers pass?"

"You gain nothing from killing them," she said firmly. She did not want them all to die. Asta jerked her arm away from Aghi's grasp and moved forward. "I am the enemy princess. Capture me and your prince gains a new bargaining chip."

She shook in dread. She feared her voice had been too tremulous. She hoped Kouen wouldn't be angry after learning what she did, but she couldn't stand watching everyone fight to secure her life. They had lives that they should not have been so willing to relinquish to preserve one. It was not that she wanted to die, either. She wanted to continue to live knowing that she could bring her soldiers back to their homes—to their families—and not have to say that they died defending her.

She, who should not have been on the battlefield, was and they died because of it. She wished to avoid that.

The bubble of silence that formed after she made her proposition ended as quickly as it began.

"Take the princess," ordered the Corrinean male. "She will make a lovely gift for our prince."

Asta walked towards the pair of copper-suited soldiers that went to apprehend her. A few Ionian soldiers stepped forward firmly when their enemies' hands wrapped around her arms, but she shook her head at them.

Not all was lost, though terrified as she was, she would get her audience with Nikias, and she hoped she could find the ways to change his mind in resisting the Kou Empire's conquests. She wished to spare his people the remaining war violence, as she wanted her country to flourish under the empire's rule as well. She would track his sisters down to return them to his side and apologize for her father, who was responsible that they were on the slave market somewhere far from their home—terrified and distraught.

She only hoped that it was not too late to find the princesses or to talk the prince down from a confrontation against Kouen. One last look over her shoulder showed her the pained expressions of the remaining soldiers in Brenna's unit, Aghi mouthed off curse, and Wei's appeared to speak into something in his palm, his eyes fixed on her.

She turned away, facing forward. The giant man gestured on soldier away and fell into stride beside her. "I am General Straton. It is an honor to take you prisoner, Princess Io."

He grinned at her in a way that made her want to shrink until she disappeared from his sight. His facial structure was strong, marked by sharp lines covered by the shadow of a beard, his shoulders broad and powerful, and his arms bulging with muscles. The copper armor he wore melded into his robust form like a second skin. His presence was as formidable as his appearance and it intimidated her to be near him.

She looked away from him.

"Tell Prince Nikias that I have captured Princess Io." A soldier nearby nodded and ran on ahead. He turned back to her. "Once we leave the tunnel, your little army will have the opportunity to leave. Unscathed, as promised."

"I will want proof."

"And I will be sure that you have it."

{ **v** }

Nikias Tassos took her hand into his and brought it to his lips as he bowed. The Corrinean prince was a beautiful man with tousled hair the color of starlight and eyes as blue as sapphires. His body was long and slender underneath his paludamentum fastened over his shoulder by a silver encrusted pin and a long sleeved tunica that did not fail to show the sculpted definition of his musculature. A silver diadem decorated in sapphires sat atop his head; the jewels glinted off the sunlight falling in through the arched windows above them.

He dismissed the servants and the army that brought her before him, appeasing Straton with praise. The palace in which the prince hid sat within the danger zones of his countries atop a mighty mountain protected by a lake situated above a magma pocket. If it were to explode into a geyser-like burst, the result could spell the deaths to thousands of people. The palace was equipped to withstand the dangers presented by the zones, she soon learned on her trip to it. Corrin employed fifty magicians who continuously fortified the structure against natural disasters. Straton enjoyed boasting knowing that she would likely never see the light of day.

"My beautiful princess," called Nikias, straightening as he released her hand with a disapproving pout. His voice smooth, attractive, like melted chocolate. "What husband would allow a delicate thing like you enter the battlefield?"

Asta felt strange without the weight of her weapons and pack. "He found me useful."

"Come, Asta, sit with me."

Nikias gestured her forward into a triclinium, the dining room, with three klinai surrounding a square table filled with platters of fresh fruit. He invited her to sit and make herself at home, but she sat upright and ridged while he reclined over the klinai across her, propping his upper body atop cushions.

"What your country has done to mine is a disservice to the friendship we once cultivated," said Nikias, serious. "And just as victory is nigh, you stomp it out of existence by bringing those monsters into our country."

"Do not hold me accountable for the war my father started," said Asta, but she started to feel ill before she could think to finish the statement she began. She contemplated repeating her circumstances back to him, but ultimately, reminded herself that she held culpability with her husband. She did not want the audience to wipe her hands of the war. She came to lessen the strife.

Nikias frowned. "Should I believe that you are an innocent bystander?"

"No," said Asta, "but I do think that you should surrender before the war kills more of your people than necessary."

He sat up quickly. "Surrender? After—"

"I will do everything in my power to find your sisters and return them to you safely, but please spare your people this hardship." She found her body naturally inclining into a bow. "The Kou Empire will not harm your people—"

"No, they will only destroy the city and rebuild it in the image of their country," interjected Nikias. "Are you truly so ignorant that you do not know what kind of people the Kou Empire are?"

"I am not ignorant! I am only trying to do what is best for my people!"

"What is best for your people is to separate from the Kou Empire!"

"I cannot do that!"

"If you had so much as asked it of me, Asta, I would have gone to Ione with the entire Corrinean army to help you hold onto your country." He sounded disappointed that she hadn't. "I would have done anything for you."

"My father ruined our relationship with your country," she reminded. "I did not feel that I had much say in what happened in my country. Asking the favor from you would have resulted in this war, only I would not have been your prisoner."

"You have a say now that your father is dead. Tell your husband to stand down. If he does and signs a ceasefire agreement that promises the Kou Empire will not invade our country again, I will release you into his custody and allow you to leave in peace." Nikias reclined into his seat and laid his hands flat over his torso, eyeing her carefully with his deep blue eyes shining. "However, if you decide to stand by Kouen…let us say it is something that I would much rather avoid."

Asta tensed. The manner in which his voice dipped in tenor caused her insides to tighten into lumps. It scared her to imagine what the alternative would be if he did not speak of it explicitly. She felt confident in Kouen's vow to save her from any dangerous situation, though she told herself not to be so reliant on his words. She had been taken into the danger zones. Nikias' fortress sat on the mountain surrounded by a lake that released poison into the air. The trek to the palace had to be navigated by someone experienced with the terrain as there were natural traps all around them, though knowing ones way only lessened the casualties to one or two. She had witnessed a man be swallowed by the earth when a small quake had changed the terrain they had been in the midst of traversing. The shift had injured two others as well.

"I will not go to war against my husband," she affirmed, "and you should know better than to do so."

Nikias' eyes narrowed. "Think about your safety, Asta. If you are stubborn about standing beside your husband because you are afraid, I can extend my protection to you."

"I am not afraid." It took all of her willpower to suppress the tremors. "And even if you can, would you be able to extend the protection to my people?"

"I could certainly dissolve my agreement with Freja Tjäder and save you the trouble of fighting a rebellion."

"What?"

"Oh? You didn't know?" he asked, grinning playfully. "You have several poisonous snakes in your nest. None were too amused by your father's betrayal, but"—he shrugged, picking a plum up from a dish nearby and biting into it, its juice spilling from the corner of his mouth which he licked up—"they have already solved that problem."

"Are you saying they are responsible for my father's death?"

"Did you not hear how he died? Axe to the head?" he questioned, behaving quite unlike the boy she recalled from her use. He spoke to her in a derisive manner, argued with her as if he were chastising an impudent child, and eyed her with hair curling fixation. He was beyond upset. He appeared exhausted by the war and she did not blame him. In fact, she wanted to appeal to that, but was starting to realize as the conversation persisted that he was not going to give up. He had pride.

And she was envious of it.

"I did."

She said nothing.

"Your father had slain mine," he began, taking a second bite from his plum. "I retreated with the remaining troops, absconded in one of the tunnels nearby. The plan was that once I retreated and he released his army onto Atros, he would die. And so, he split his army up into different tasks and left himself vulnerable in the presence of one of his most trusted men, who lodged an axe in his head the second he turned around."

She cursed her mind for going straight to Werner. Among the soldiers and commanders from the Ionian Army in Corrin, Werner was the only one that fit the description.

"I don't think he realized who killed him. He went out like a flame." Nikias sat up, returning the half-eaten plum to a mound of freshly picked fruit. "Think about your situation thoroughly, Asta. I am your only salvation."

"Your spy tried to kill me," she reminded him.

"We are at war and you had knowledge of our tunnels. What kind of leader would I be if I allowed our history to stand in the way of my success?" he asked, dead serious. "I prayed you were not on the island as the traitor in your midst informed, but you were and you cannot be allowed to live. For both our benefits, you understand, do you not?"

It shocked her to see how Nikias changed. She steeled herself against his words, reminding herself that she did not know his experiences or the consequences of them. She understood he was under pressure and that if he truly wanted to see her dead, she would have been the minute she revealed herself to be Asta in the tunnel. Stanton would have had no qualms over ending her life.

"No," she answered, her voice betraying her emotions. "I don't understand."

"Of course, you understand," he told her. "You are the princess of a country fighting against the shackles of unfair authority, but you are weak. Small, fragile, and scared. Idealism and your endless want of peace will spell an end to you. It has. Peace cannot be achieved after a rule like your father's. A new line must emerge, one more deserving than a puppet princess. That is what your aunt is fighting for and you will be surprised how many supporters she has. If you don't exist, she can repair your father's mistakes."

"She won't make a better ruler than my father."

"And you will?" he asked, amused. "Will the world tell stories of Asta, the Queen of Peace, who rescued her people through longwinded, inspirational speeches?"

She balled her hands into fists. "I am doing what I can. Kouen will help me—"

"Yes, help you run your country to the ground." Nikias left his seat and walked to her side, sitting to her right. She instinctively moved away from him, but he pulled her back into place by wrapping his arm around her shoulders. She winced. "Now, I gave you options, do not look at me as if I were a monster. I am looking out for you and your people as much as I am trying to keep my country for the sake of mine. Honestly, I do not care about having your aunt crowned queen of Ione. You are correct in expressing she won't be any better than your father. I would rather not have to fight the Kou Empire. I am willing to betray your aunt for you." His hand moved from her shoulder, fingers gliding along the curve of her neck before dipping forward to grasp her throat. He jerked her head back. She gnashed her teeth to keep herself from crying out, but his fingers dug deep into her throat, threatening to rip it open, and tears sprung into her eyes. Her hands shot up to his arm, one wrapped around his wrist, the other at his hand. He pressed his mouth to her ear, shushing her gently, and brushed her hair from her face. "_Shhhh_, it's okay, Asta. There's no need for you to cry, no, I won't hurt you. We're friends, remember."

She let out a guttural sound in protest. She could not speak as his grip tightened.

Nikias wiped the tears that escaped from her eyes. "We need you to write a message to your prince. Tell him that if he turns back, I will return you to him."

He loosened his grip enough that she could speak. She coughed violently.

"He does not care for me," she rasped, feeling a tear dripping down her cheek. "You are wasting your time."

"Yes, but that does not mean he does not care for the Ionian army's loyalty to him because of you."

"He won't agree to your terms."

She shuddered with dread when Nikias took a long whiff of her hair. He returned his hand to her throat as soon as he felt her make a move to escape. She wheezed, pain spreading through her at a rapid pace.

"The alternative is not too bad," he whispered in her ear, softly like a lover's sweet nothings. "The wife of the First Imperial Prince of the Kou Empire would fetch a stunning price on the market." Her anxious heart began to hammer. "I think with your position and this sweet face of yours that you might even find yourself a good owner. Your father should have considered the option—oh, wait, he did, didn't he? He sold you to the Kou Empire."

Her nails bit into his skin, the warm blood bubbled to the surface, but he did not loosen his grip.

"I wouldn't worry too much about your husband. He will find another princess to marry, hopefully one that will serve him better than you have."

He paused as she struggled, growing anxious in his vise-like grip.

"Well, have you made your choice?"

Asta shoved his face away from her and he released her before attempting to take her wrists. She clocked him a second time and scrambled out of her seat. She stepped on the bottom of his tunica and knocked a platter filled with grapes into the ground when she tried to right herself. She grabbed the silver dish and threw it at his head the next time he tried to reach for her. She ran to the door, understanding that she would not escape.

She slammed into it, touching its carved surface once before Nikias grabbed hold of her shoulders. He jerked her around and shoved her into the door hard, knocking the wind out of her lungs. His silver hair was disheveled, his crown strewn across the floor, and his left cheek red.

Asta groaned, throbbing.

"I planned to treat you kindly, but if you are determined to act like a beast, then I will have you chained like one."

"Y-You don't have to do this," she pleaded, fighting back tears. "S-Surrender. Think about the men you are sending to their deaths."

Nikias rolled his eyes. "Women like you are infuriating. Just make up your mind."

He tugged her away from the door and slammed it open, half-dragging her outside the room. He threw her down into the hard floor and shouted for his guards.

Asta was shakily getting on her hands and knees when she was surrounded by the soldiers in copper, who forced her back on her feet. She stood facing Nikias' reddened face once more.

"When you start feeling more inclined to cooperate, call for me. Until then, enjoy your stay."

She was taken to the innermost part of the palace and shoved down various stairs. She hit walls and fell several times, scrapped her palms and ripped her pants over one knee. She was thrown into a dank room that smelled of death. The guards forced her wrists into cold manacles chained to the murky walls. As the doors closed out the only bar of light in the room, Asta felt the room grow cold and the presence of another entity fill the space with malice. She sealed her eyes shut, shrinking into herself, and muttered incessantly beneath her breath that it was a nightmare.

Yes. She was asleep, rendered unconscious early by the rough treatment of Nikias and his soldiers.

The cold sank its icy fangs deep into her skin, penetrating her blood and spreading at rampant speed. She held her body tightly, shivering, expelling each heavy breath into a white cloud. Repeatedly, between pale breaths, she willed the presence to leave her be, frozen by fear she could only cower. Her body trembled beyond her control.

A low, raspy voice drifted inside her prison like a mist and she heard it clearly. "You are too noisy."

Asta jolted, sitting upright with her hands held together against her chest. She searched the stagnant room, her metal chains clanged as she unconsciously gave them a hard tug that bit into her wrists. Her eyes, which had adjusted to the darkness, fell upon a tall, shimmering silhouette in a far off corner and her heart tightened into a fist as the air slowly left her lung. She feared moving, breathing, even so much as twitching in its presence. She had seen worst, had felt deeply rooted fear before these strange new hallucinations. She grew scared and wept silently, the sobs trapped in her throat.

"It's not real," she whispered, a shuddering breath. "You're not real. It's not—"

A stone knocked metal above her, raising her eyes to a long rectangular window enclosed by evenly spaced bars and followed the rocks trajectory to the stained floor before her. Her heart accelerated. The narrow opening did not lead outside, that she determined by judging the amount of darkness on the other side of the metal.

Her heart accelerated. As she shifted her hands, her chains made noise. "Hello?"

"You aren't hallucinating, you fool," called the old voice. It drifted in from the window. "I'm here."

She sobbed, happy to realize there was someone there speaking to her. "O-Oh."

"Now, quit sniffling! I can't meditate with all the noise you're making!"

"I'm sorry!"

She quieted, rubbing her tears from her cheeks. She waited a moment before speaking up. "Hello?"

After a lengthy silence, the voice answered, "What?"

"I'm Asta."

"I know who you are."

Her heart jolted, but she assumed they heard it when she had been thrown inside the cell. "Oh." She paused, growing nervous. "What about you? What is your name?"

"Maeve."

Asta told herself that the name was common. "W-What?"

"I am Maeve, and I have waited here for you for quite some time Asta of Ione."


	17. (06) Blood Pearl - Pt 3

**BLOOD PEARL** | BRITA GRAHN

| **i **|

Bengt had the determination of a cockroach. He had the charisma of a sociopath and the connections required to have a cult started in his name.

In the course of three days, he had preached his chauvinistic spiel and had garnered enough infamy to have dozens of citizens humiliate him by turning his passionate hatred towards Asta into a circus act.

Personally, Brita had enjoyed watching Bengt cower in the face of flying vegetables from a crowd of furious citizens. However, once the faithful had grown tired of attacking him, realizing their efforts were useless, and a new crop of people had arrived to replace them. These individuals had shared similar sentiments to those that he had been spewing and had joined him in spreading them throughout Astoria, hoping to catch the attention of others like them.

This should have gotten him nowhere. The only problem the people had with the royal family had died with Hákon and they weren't necessarily displeased with the Kou Empire. It had become quite evident that the denizens of Ione were happy with their new prince and the prospect of a new monarch—ecstatic really. However, at the same time that he had started to talk to the people, Freja had posted hundreds of soldiers throughout Ione and had ordered them to spread what she called "the true nature of the prince's relationship with our fair princess." Innately suspicious, the word had taken time to get traction, but once the merchants had caught wind of how the princess had been covered in bruises since Kouen had arrived to Ione, it had not taken the divulgence of any more details for the people to make up their own stories of abuse.

Freja's rumors had helped bolster Bengt's ridiculous cause.

By the seventh day since Kouen and Asta had gone to Corrin, Bengt had filled an entire warehouse of people that he spoke to about Asta's inappropriate affairs with the Castle Guard. He had slandered her in every possible way. He had damned her.

That evening, as Brita stood in on one of his speeches crowded by a horde of fools in a dank warehouse, Bengt gave his best speech yet. The Johan Ek speech. This one would destroy the last shred of loyalty these people possessed for her.

"…she would have abandoned us all to be damned under the tyrannical rule of the Kou Empire for a man, who would have killed her once her worth had depleted!" he exclaimed, passionate. "Our princess cares not for our country, but for the satisfaction of her lascivious needs!"

A murmur rumbled through the crowd, crackling like thunder.

"Do we truly want someone like that on the throne? Should we not, as a country that suffered at the hands of the late king, deserving of a better ruler?"

The crowd cheered in agreement, pumping their fists into the air above them.

"And should we not fight for what we want? A smart, experienced leader!"

Another pump into the air and another cheer filled the room.

"Let us not allow ourselves to be swallowed by the Kou Empire, let us not lose our pride as warriors, and let us not rely on an unworthy princess!"

Brita could feel her eyes glaze over, half cursing Freja for insisting that she assist to his gathering that evening instead of drinking expensive wine with Kay Åkerman.

The attendees were buzzing delightedly as they drifted out of the shabby building. Brita approached Bengt once the small crowd of admirers dispersed. He cast her a look of displeasure that she was all too eager to return tenfold.

"Had no volunteers to swive you, whore?"

"I cancelled my appointments," she responded, "even good whores deserve time off."

Bengt sneered. "What do you want? Out with it! I would rather not be seen with the likes of you!"

That was her line. "Freja wants you to meet her at the usual haunt."

He waved her off. "Very well, get out of my sight."

She remained in place and folded her arms across her chest. "Does it amuse you to speak lowly of the princess? Have you absolutely no life that you have to degrade yourself in this manner? What reason do you have to hate her?"

"It is nothing your small brain could comprehend, you ignorant trollop," he spat.

She resisted the urge to beat him black and blue for curiosity's sake. "What did she ever do to you?"

"You ask as if her existence alone is not enough of a reason."

"Leave it to you to have a stupid reason. She probably didn't greet you once and now you're determined to end her—"

He lifted his chin, breathing in audibly. "You do not honestly know and you have been with her for so long?"

His arrogance annoyed her. "What is there to know?"

"She should not exist in this world. That is all you need to know. So long as she does, none of us are safe."

Bengt left her with a hundred more questions.

**BLOOD PEARL **| END


	18. (07) Silver Prince - Pt 1

**SEVEN**: Silver Prince

* * *

**House Ljung**

House Ljung began as a society of philosophers that survived Io's conquest of Ione. Io allowed them to continue their practices after she befriended one man, Taron Ljung, who taught her as much as time would allow. Taron and his philosophers worked hard to reestablish a system of education after the wars of conquest destroyed many of the learning centers the old regime boasted. As schooling was never viewed as an appealing priority to Io's warrior clan, who lived and breathed war, she objected many of his proposals, but Taron never gave up. After years of sitting through many longwinded requests, Io conceded on two conditions: that schools be open to people of any social class and that women be admitted as equally as men. Taron accepted the conditions and went off to build hundreds of schools and colleges throughout Ione.

House Ljung is comprised of several branch families that manage both educational and art institutes throughout Ione. It is the biggest noble family in the country. They are also responsible for the textile production in Ione and trade with both the merchants of the Strand Province and those of the Öman Province.

During Hákon's rule, the entire education system shut down from a lack of funding. After the Kou Empire arrived, the current head of Ljung House worked to use their backing to restart the system and put children back in school.

Rolf Ljung is the current head of the house.

The Ljung Province is located west of Astoria.

**House Byquist**

The Byquist line originated from the Åkerman. The family was but a small sect of animal farmers that grew powerful enough to separate from the Åkerman.

Byquist Province is comprised of mostly countryside. House Byquist manages all animal farms throughout Ione, ensures the production and circulation of animal related products throughout Ione, and front a humane society for the well treatment of animals. They hold a strong connection to both the Strand and Öman Provinces.

Finn Byquist is the current head of the House.

The Byquist Province is located southeast of Astoria.

* * *

**xl**: Sooo...a lot happened. School is tough. I debuted a play. Holidays happened. Editing things got in the way of writing things. Stuff. You know.

No excuses.

Happy Valentine's Day to y'all if you celebrate! If you don't happy Sunday.

I want to take the time to thank the wonderful reviewers that have reviewed the story since my last update. I'd list y'all, but I'm uploading on my iPod like a rebel, yo. To every new favorite/alert add that made my heart squeel, many thanks.


	19. (07) Silver Prince - Pt 2

**SILVER PRINCE** |

{ **i** }

_The Silver Prince arrived at Io Castle mounted on white mare with his shining head crowned with sapphires and his body clothed in silk. He dismounted with graceful swiftness and stepped forward to present Asta of Ione with a bouquet of lavender roses, blue irises, and white stargazer lilies clasped together by a white ribbon._

_Asta brightened and held the flowers to her chest, cradling them like a treasure. With a bow, he introduced himself, "I am Nikias Tassos, Prince of Corrin."_

_"Welcome to Ione, Prince Nikias, I am Asta Io," the small girl said, curtsying. She wore tiny yellow flowers weaved into the small braids in her pale hair and a gold necklace with a crescent hung from the end._

_Nikias smiled at her before he accompanied his mother into the lavishly decorated courtyard in Io Castle. The long slender woman was dressed in white silk that hung off her body beautifully and wore a crown of diamonds to match the diamond-encrusted choker around her pale neck that brought envious looks upon her from other royalty in attendance._

_Asta peered up at her father, dressed sharply in black military garb. Beside him, Bengt with his tome, scribbling down all arrivals and speaking to the king in whispers. To her right, Werner smiled warmly at her. He wore a similar outfit as her father's—though without the violet sash, gold pins, or golden crown encrusted with jewels to signify his status as monarch—and his hair was combed out neatly, falling just above his shoulders._

_"Eyes forward," ordered Hákon._

_Asta straightened her back and squared her shoulders. She stood upright like the soldiers trained at Io Castle and watched three dark skinned figures, two in splendid kaftans embroidered in gold that wore dark trousers and layers of under robes underneath and the third in a brown leather jacket that molded to his powerful physique. The Princes of Hassah paused before her father and inclined their heads in greeting. Their guard bent forward on one knee and remained in place with his head bowed, not once looking up at them, though Asta tried her hardest to get his attention until Werner tapped her shoulder._

_Once her father welcomed them into the castle, the princes surrounded her and offered her with gifts. The eldest prince presented her with a pearl necklace that he slipped over her head with a dazzling smile. His brother gave her a dagger that he claimed was made by the best weapon's smith in his country. The accompanying guard rose, but never lifted his face in her presence or her father's after the princes were guided to the courtyard with the others._

_They were the last arrivals._

_"Let us join our guests," said Hákon, turning on his heel and striding through the castle's entrance._

_Werner held out his hand to her. "May I have the honor, princess?"_

_She took it and allowed him to escort her inside to the courtyard where the ambience was festive and the royal guests were seated at the high table enjoying the entertainment. Werner guided her to her seat among the princes and princesses of the other Cluster Kingdoms. _

_Brita, on standby, took the gifts that had been presented to her by each prince and princess visiting to store in her room. _

_Asta shyly glanced around the table to the Princes of Hassah with their beautiful brown skin, the Silver Prince with his sparkling sapphire crown, the Princess of Baryon with her vibrant red hair, the toddler Prince of Lorah with his pink cheeks seated on the lap of his wet nurse, and the Prince of Nohr in his splendid cape._

_The King of Lorah had brought musicians that were gathered atop a dais plucking at their string instruments and blowing into their flutes creating a melodious uplifting sound. During their initial presentation, there was an absence of noise apart from the music and a fascination in the eyes of all the attendees foreign to the melody produced, but as the first song ended and the second began its elegant entrance, Myron, the hero of Lorah, bowed before the Queen of Baryon and asked her to dance. The ruby-clad queen simpered in acceptance and offered him her hand. As he drew her from her seat, others followed his lead and started to pair up. Asta was surprised to see her father guide the gorgeous Queen of Corrin onto the floor to dance._

_The ebullient Princess of Baryon nagged the frowny Prince of Nohr for a dance. The eldest Prince of Hassah bowed down to Asta and asked her to dance. Looking around her, and at the urging of Vilhelm and Carina standing with the other members of the Castle Guard, she turned back to the prince's handsome face and smiled, accepting. His younger brother found a partner in the eldest Byquist daughter while the Silver Prince took Agda Hult's second daughter onto the floor._

_Prince Melik patiently taught her the steps to the dance that he swore had been hammered into him by his mother for three weeks straight. He was eleven years older than she was and towered over her, the top of her head barely reached his chest. His silky black hair was braided neatly over his shoulder and his black eyes were shining. His body was slender, but visibly better built than most soldiers were. _

_He danced with her as well as someone his height and age could with someone like her for two whole songs before he allowed his brother, Baron, the chance to interrupt._

_Asta glided among the others with Prince Baron, who was only a year younger than the eldest prince was, and talked to him about the Hult Province forests when he had asked after her favorite place in the kingdom. Once she turned the question on him, he described a sparkling lake in Hassah that made her promise that she would visit his country if he showed her that place. He guaranteed that if she ever did, it would be the first place they would see._

_After the Princess of Baryon managed to secure the Prince of Nohr as her dancing partner, Asta finally made it to the Silver Prince._

_"You have beautiful hair," complimented Asta, unable to help herself from blurting out. "It's like starlight."_

_Nikias grinned. "It is not as lovely as you."_

_Asta's cheeks warmed._

_As they spun around, she fumbled for conversation starters, nervous in his arms, but she recalled her mother's stories of Corrin and it made her feel at ease knowing that she could rely on them._

_"My mother was fostered in Corrin," she started._

_"My father has fond memories of Queen Ingrid," he replied, stealing a quick glance at the other attendees. "Is her highness present?"_

_She was upset knowing that her mother was upstairs in the eastern tower staring off into the Hult Forests unable to attend the Byzen Festival, but her mother had asked her to enjoy herself and not let her absence affect her mood._

_"She is not feeling well," she told him. "She couldn't attend."_

_"That is a shame," he said, smiling sheepishly. "I do admit I did want to meet her."_

_"You can!" She caught herself shouting, surprising him and a few others around them. She lowered her voice and spoke again, "You can. I can introduce you."_

_"I wouldn't want to be a bother—"_

_"You wouldn't be! She would love to meet you! She speaks fondly of your father as well!"_

_Corrin was a place filled with her mother's happiest memories. Her mother enjoyed reminiscing about her youth in Corrin, so Asta firmly believed that if she brought Nikias with her upstairs to the eastern tower to meet her mother that she would be happy._

_"Then I would be honored to," he said pleasantly._

_"Oh, I almost forgot to say it, but I really liked the flowers you brought me!" she told him._

_"They weren't the best gift you received, I'm sure," he replied, appearing embarrassed. "I opted for a diamond bracelet, but my mother insisted on flowers. She said you would like them more."_

_"They were a great gift! I love flowers!"_

_Nikias smiled._

_The first day of the Byzen Festival concluded with uproarious success, and once the courtyard was cleared of Ione's foreign dignitaries, all of whom were situated in comfortable and lavish rooms within the castle, the extra staff started to clean up in order to set up for the second day's events._

_Asta wasn't allowed near the eastern tower during the Byzen Festival. She was told her mother was too ill by the castle's physician and that she could become infected if she spent any time with her. She didn't believe them, but she pretended she did and waited for the perfect opportunity to sneak away to see her. She wanted to show her the flowers Nikias brought her and talk to her about the Queen of Corrin's diamond necklace, as well as gush about how Nero of Hassah, the guard that accompanied the princes, had picked a flower from a nearby arrangement to put in her hair because it suited her before Aghi rudely interrupted them. There were so many stories that she wanted to tell her mother that she was certain it would take the rest of the night to finish up._

_Brita tucked her into bed after brushing out the knots and flowers from her hair. She sat with her at the edge of her bed and read her a story during which Asta pretended to fall sleep. Once she heard Brita blow out the candles and leave the room, she jumped out of bed as quietly as possible. She stood at the door with her ear pressed against it and waited until she knew that Brita was gone before she went back to grab a coat._

_Outside, Vilhelm was standing guard alone. Carina and Sigge would be asleep with the other recruits, so she could not count on either of them to help her that night._

_"And what are you doing out of bed?" asked Vilhelm._

_"Shouldn't Aghi be here—?"_

_Vilhelm pointed down the hall to Aghi standing with his back against the wall and Nero of Hassah leaning close to share a whispered conversation with him. Asta felt her stomach drop and jealously rise up. The way Nero looked at Aghi made her feel upset._

_"Hey!" she shouted._

_Aghi pushed Nero away and jerked around at the sound of her voice. His face was red. "P-Princess!"_

_"You should be guarding me! So, guard me!"_

_Aghi turned to the grinning Nero, inclined his head, and rushed to Asta's side. "You should be sleeping!"_

_Vilhelm chuckled softly into his hands. _

_"Forget it," said Asta. "I want to see my mother."_

_Aghi and Vilhelm looked at one another._

_"I know she isn't sick."_

_"I don't think we can help you," said Vilhelm. "Commander Ivor is guarding the tower himself."_

_"But I—"_

_Aghi suddenly pushed her inside her room and shut the door quietly as he put a finger to his lips, silencing any protests she felt rising in her throat._

_"Something wrong, Eklund? Straighten up, Olander!" snapped Chamberlain Bengt._

_"Nothing, chamberlain, sir."_

_After a beat, Aghi reopened the door and apologized with both hands pressed together._

_"We're sorry, but we can't take you to see the queen," said Vilhelm. "Not if Ivor is guarding."_

_"What is Chamberlain Bengt doing in this wing?" asked Asta._

_"He likely had business with your father," said Aghi._

_Asta refocused herself. She understood there was no way of getting through Ivor Lager, the harsh Commander of the Castle Guard, but he would have to switch with another guard sooner or later. "Wake me when his shift ends."_

_"That we can do," said Vilhelm._

_"And no more slacking," said Asta, looking at Aghi._

_"I was not slacking."_

_"I saw you speaking to Nero of Hassah!" _

_Aghi flushed. "He was asking for directions."_

_She poked his armored chest with a sharp glare. "Nobody asks for directions with their face so close to yours!"_

_"I swear that was all."_

_She didn't believe him for an instant, but she let him get away with lying to her, returning to her room silently. She climbed into bed and crawled under her blankets, settling into the comfortable warmth of it until she drifted off to sleep._

_Vilhelm woke her in the middle of the night, whispering the words, "I can take you to the queen."_

_Asta sat up groggily, yawning as Vilhelm took one of her blankets and wrapped it around her. He hoisted her up into his arms, covering her head, and carried her out of her bedroom._

_"I got her," he whispered._

_"Go quietly," said Aghi._

_Vilhelm took her up the eastern tower. He gained easy access because the guards could be swayed by her word and set her on her feet at the door to unlock the entrance. She wondered why Aghi had not come instead. It was normal for Aghi to pick the lock to the tower instead of using an actual key._

_"Where did you get that?" she asked._

_"Don't ask questions." He inserted the key, turning it. The lock sounded noisily. He turned to her as he removed the key. "I will stay out here. Don't be too long. If the queen is resting, let her sleep. Understood?"_

_"Yes," she said restlessly._

_"Now, quietly."_

_Vilhelm opened the door for her. He knew her all too well._

_Asta entered the dark room. Vilhelm left the door open to small aperture, light barely slipped in. She maneuvered her way to the stairs by memory, feeling around in order to avoid furniture. She climbed up the stairs as quietly as her excitement allowed and entered her mother's room at the top of stairwell with a bounce in her step._

_A candle doused the room in soft light, standing alone in a candelabrum atop an angled dresser, and muted the colors within its reach. Her mother sat in the moss colored armchair, her back to her shielded by her golden hair. Her slim legs were propped up, feet flat against the top of the arm of the chair. There was a large book open on her lap. She turned the page slowly, using the candlelight to read._

_"Mama!"_

_Ingrid shut her book at the sound of her voice and lowered her feet, turning in her direction. She appeared exhausted, but she brightened and stretched her arms out. _

_"My little princess," she whispered, kissing Asta's head as soon as she ran into her arms. She repeatedly planted kisses on her until Asta was squirming out of her arms. She released her after another kiss. "Why are you not sleeping? Today must have been exhausting."_

_"I was! I was, but I wanted to tell you all about it! You should come! You should be there too!" said Asta, sitting on her mother's lap. "It was so beautiful! There was dancing and there were so many people! You should have seen the Queen of Corrin! She wore a necklace made entirely of diamonds. The King of Lorah gained weight like you said and…and…"_

_For what Asta presumed had been hours, she sat on her mother's lap, warmed by her arms wrapped around her so securely, and told her all about that day's opening festivities. _

_The Byzen Festival happened on a five-year cycle and promoted peace among the Cluster Kingdoms. Her father had gone to Corrin alone during the last festival. Asta had been told that she had been too young to travel, let alone enjoy the festivities to their fullest, so she hadn't experienced a festival before. In fact, she didn't remember that far back._

_Asta asked her mother for permission to bring Nikias and promised that she would when she accepted. She left her mother's side reluctantly because she didn't want to risk Vilhelm getting into any trouble for having helped her make it past the guards or obviously stealing the key._

_She walked with Vilhelm hand in hand down the hallways of the castle, the ground under her bare feet cold._

_"I wonder if mother will feel better tomorrow," said Asta, swinging her hand and Vilhelm's between them. "Do you think she will come down?"_

_Vilhelm smiled at her. "We should hope so."_

_A girl's scream frightened them. Behind them, a red-haired woman bolted out of a room, disheveled and half-naked with her clothes trailing behind her. She turned once and Asta thought she reminded her of the Princess of Baryon, but as soon as Bengt exited, disgruntled, and with his pants at his ankles, she chased the thought from her mind. _

_Vilhelm pulled her onto his arms and started jogging towards her room, throwing the blanket over her head haphazardly, not succeeding in covering her because when she lifted her head, she realized the chamberlain locked his eyes on her. She felt overcome by a feeling so black and torturous that made her want to cry. She closed her eyes tightly, but she couldn't erase Bengt's hateful stare from her memory._

_Vilhelm tossed the tower key at Aghi as soon as he saw him and slipped into her bedroom where he dropped her back into bed, tucking her in._

_"Sleep."_

_She did not release his hand. She kept him seated on the bed with her. "Thank you."_

_He brought her hand to his lips, kissing it. "Anything for you, princess."_

_She smiled._

_She fell asleep immediately._

_In the morning, she woke with her father seated beside her. Very carefully, he reached over and brushed her fringe to the side, twisting the ends between his forefinger and thumb._

_"Good morning, little princess."_

_"Morning, papa," she said yawning, turning on her side._

_"Did you enjoy yourself yesterday?" he asked, drawing circles on her forehead with his forefinger._

_"Prince Melik taught me to dance," she replied, smiling._

_"Oh, I saw. You learned quickly." He played with a few strands of her hair. "What about Nikias? What did you think of him?"_

_"I loved the flowers he brought me. He was nice."_

_"Good."_

_She debated it a bit in her mind, but her father seemed to be in a good mood. She did not think he would deny her anything that morning, so it wouldn't hurt to ask his permission._

_"Can I introduce mama to Prince Nikias?" she asked, her voice soft and full of uncertainty._

_He smiled. "Why not? Sure. Take him to meet your mother. I am certain it would make her happy."_

_She sat up, excited. "I agree!"_

_"Get ready. I'll see you in breakfast."_

_Her father kissed her goodbye and exited her room, leaving her in Brita's care._

_Brita helped her start her day and aided in her dressing. She brushed her hair out and tied it up into a high ponytail. Once Asta had her breakfast, she was called on by her father to accompany him to that day's festivities and she was ecstatic about it._

_A secret event was taking place in Astoria._

_Asta was happy to learn that the event was a part of a larger affair within the festival that involved champions—one to represent each country—participating in contests. The overall winning champion would be rewarded handsomely and the country from which they hailed would host the next festival._

_The secret event was a race, followed by a luncheon held by the Strand family._

_Asta thoroughly enjoyed the time she spent at the race, rooting boisterously for Werner, who represented Ione as their champion. However, the race was more of an obstacle track and proved to be quite difficult to overcome, but in the end, Nero of Hassah completed it before the others. _

_After the luncheon celebrated Nero's victory, Asta returned to the castle with Nikias to meet with her mother. The two had spent most of the morning together as his mother was quite attached to her father, often seen exchanging whispers throughout the race._

_She found it odd that neither Aghi nor Vilhelm were present when she went upstairs to find them and when she asked Sigge after them, he said he had not seen them since yesterday night when they started their shifts. She figured they would turn up later and guided Nikias to the eastern tower. They were escorted by a man from her father's security detail, who waited for them outside._

_Ingrid was seated comfortably when they entered. Immediately, Nikias got down on one knee and bowed his head, holding one hand over his chest. "It is an honor to be in your presence, Queen Ingrid."_

_Her mother approached him, placing a hand atop his head. She smiled down at him and his cheeks flushed. "Let me look at you," she said, taking his chin in her gentle hand and lifting as she crouched down to level her face with his. "You are every bit as beautiful as your father."_

_Nikias turned a darker shade of red, though he tried his best to hide his embarrassment. He lowered his face once more briefly and the sunlight hit the sapphires and diamonds in his crown and made them sparkle iridescently. "Thank you, your majesty."_

_"Come," said Ingrid, enthused. "I have something I would like to show you both."_

_Ingrid took them aside to her desk and asked for their help in clearing a large portion of it. Asta shuffled papers into a stack while Nikias restocked books into a nearby shelf at her mother's instruction as Ingrid searched through several tubes of rolled parchment until she came across the right one. She set it down over the cleared surface and unfurled the map, one of her meticulously crafted works._

_Nikias' eyes brightened after a single glance. "This is Corrin."_

_"As you know it?" asked Ingrid._

_Nikias was given room to scan the map and gasped, pointing to one of several other lines drawn throughout the map in a watery shade. "The secret tunnels as well. This is a spectacular map. Not one like this exists in Corrin." He looked up to her mother amazed. "How did you ever come to possess such a map?"_

_Asta proudly put her hands on her hips, happy to flaunt her mother's talents. "She drew it herself."_

_The Silver Prince was stunned. "This is incredible."_

_"So is it correct?"_

_"As well as I know," answered Nikias. _

_Ingrid sat them down and started to tell them stories of her time in Corrin. Nikias' father had shown her every inch of Corrin and that alone was the only reason why she knew the country so well. For hours, they enjoyed her tales until a servant came up to call them for dinner. _

_They left her side and followed the servant towards the Great Hall to join everyone. She and Nikias spoke animatedly while they walked through a hallway covered in tall windows on one side and fantastical paintings on the other. _

_As he described one of the many secret tunnels in his country, Asta peered out a window and heard what sounded like a muffled scream._

_"Did you hear that?" she asked, forcing them to halt._

_"What?"_

_Nikias and the servant listened closely. She heard a crackle in the air, like a thunderclap, followed by a drowned cry. Her pulse quickened. She turned to their bewildered expressions._

_"You didn't hear it?"_

_"Hear what? There was nothing," the servant assured. "Princess—"_

_Asta raised her hand, silencing him, and walked up to the window. She looked up to the darkened sky. There weren't any dark clouds in sight, but the crackle sounded again and she likened it to the sound of leather as it moved. It drew her attention below to a camp of wooden spikes hammered into the earth and a gigantic flame that exposed her to a masked man torturing two shackled men. _

_The two were bloody and horribly bruised, but her chest ached when she recognized Vilhelm's blond head, his hair matted with blood and mud, and her dark-skinned Aghi._

_She bolted down the hallway to shouts of her name and title. She ran down service stairs to an exit through an unused poultry storage on the eastern wing of the castle because it would lead her close enough to the site that she wouldn't have to run any further. She burst through the door and hit the grass running, seeing the giant fire up over a small hill ahead. _

_She lost a shoe and tripped once on the way up the small hill. There were other guards standing there watching, among them The Castle Guard's Second, Einar Lager, a man that frightened her._

_Asta started to shout, "Stop!" before she reached the site. The masked man halted his whip at the sight of her, but Einar ordered him to continue before intercepting her path._

_"I said stop!" she shouted, though the sour look on his narrowed eyes daunted her. She gulped, hands curling into small fists that she wouldn't know the first thing about using. _

_"His majesty ordered them to be punished. His word supersedes yours, princess," said Einar coldly._

_"Why are they being punished?" she demanded, stealing another glance at her wounded guards. She knew the answer to her own question. She saw it in her mind, but she wanted to believe it was anything but that truth._

_"They disobeyed orders and brought the princess to the queen without permission from the king. They bribed guards and stole a key. They are fortunate this is the only punishment they are receiving." Einar turned in their direction as the whip cracked down across Aghi's back, ripping a painful welt across his skin. She winced at the sound of his muffled protest. "It is almost over if you wish to wait. You can do with them what you wish after that."_

_It was her fault they were being punished so severely. She tried to watch, but it hurt. She turned her crying face away, sobbing as the whip sang against their bare flesh. She squeezed her eyes shut and jolted with every muffled scream forced out of them. They were gagged in order not to disturb the guests, but they wounded themselves more by grinding their teeth hard against the leather straps that bit into the corners of their mouths._

_The gruesome punishment ended after several whips—she counted five more each, but every new strike counted for triple the last._

_Einar ordered the masked man to stop and gestured the others to clear the area._

_Asta ran to them. She lifted Vilhelm's swollen, bruised face before going to Aghi, who bled profusely from a cut on his forehead and was barely conscious. She looked to the retreating guards for help, but never got the words out because Einar threw a metal key at her feet._

_"Next time, be more considerate of your guard dogs."_

_He departed with a hearty laugh, sharing it with the others accompanying him. She wouldn't be receiving any help from them._

_Asta felt her body quake with rage, but understood she could do nothing. She picked up the key and unlocked the manacles that secured their wrists and ankles. She did her best to help them onto the hay-strewn ground gently, but it was impossible. Their bodies were too heavy a weight to for her to burden alone._

_She apologized to them repeatedly as she freed them. It was her fault. If she had not wanted to see her mother so badly, this wouldn't have happened. They wouldn't have had to be punished._

_Vilhelm tried to stand, but was too weak. He stared up at her, bleary eyed, and touched her cheek, catching one of her tears on his finger. "It's…okay," he struggled, swallowing thickly. "Don't…a-apologize."_

_"I-It's my f-fault," she sobbed, ashamed of her tears. She could not rid herself of her guilt._

_The snap of a branch alerted her to another's presence. She jerked around and sank back on her haunches at the sight of Nikias. The Silver Prince was a little disheveled; his sapphire crown slightly lopsided on top of his shining hair. His breathing was a little erratic from having chased her._

_"This is unacceptable, princess," he said, stunned. "You cannot be treated in such a manner by mere…subjects."_

_She was embarrassed to admit that she was treated with such disrespect on a daily basis. She would avoid speaking about it._

_With trembling hands, she asked, "C-Can you help me? I-I need t-to take them to the p-physician."_

_Nikias went to her side wordlessly. She crouched down beside Aghi, concerned about leaving him outside on his own. No matter how many times she called for him to wake or shook him gently, he did not open his eyes._

_"Take him," said Vilhelm, managing to sit up. He coughed violently, wincing. "H-He needs the attention."_

_Nikias stepped over to Aghi on one side and she took the other. The prince burdened himself with most of Aghi's weight, but Asta did her best to help him. It took them over half an hour to make it to the physician's practice in the castle's west wing. She told them about Vilhelm and the bespectacled man asked his assistants to get him, telling Asta and Nikias to sit._

_One of his remaining assistants served them water, but after the first initial drink she took, she could not swallow any more. She held the tall cup in her trembling hands. Tears continued to fall from her eyes._

_Nikias reached for her hand. She looked at him. His clothes were ruined by Aghi's blood. The delicate fabric was torn in places. His silver hair was stuck to his sweaty forehead, his crown no longer sat atop his head. She looked no different. Her dress ruined, her hair sticking out in odd places, her legs and arms were aching, and her heart thumped noisily._

_He said nothing._

_The assistants returned with Vilhelm and set him down on top of the other empty bed in the other room._

_Asta wanted the day to end._

{ **ii** }

"I am called Maeve," the raspy-voiced woman intoned, her voice drifting into the cold, dank cell like a bird song, "and I have been waiting for you to arrive here for quite some time, Asta of Ione."

"Maeve?"

"I, too, hail from Ione."

Asta moved and her chains clanked. She took a breath. "My mother...my mother talked to me about you."

Maeve said nothing in response.

Asta was scared she imagined it all again. She balled her hands into fists, her heart quickened like a hummingbird's.

"This is no time for such talks," complained Maeve, frightening her. "Think of getting out."

"I can't. I've been chained." She unconsciously moved her hands and the metal bit into her wrists, hurting her. She winced. "Nikias won't see me unless I agree to join him."

"Well, what are you waiting for them?" she asked strongly. "Join him!"

"I c-can't betray my husband!" Asta countered.

She couldn't. If she did, she'd be betraying Ione as well. Kouen said he would help her. They agreed to work together. It was what the entire trip was about and she was getting something out of it. They were talking more. He included her in his plans to take over Corrin, as painful as war was to her. He said that he would help her if she were in danger, which she technically was and truly believed in waiting for him to rescue her. He would. She knew he would. She felt it. He wasn't lying when he made that vow to her.

"You have nothing to lose," said Maeve. "You said it yourself, he does not love you."

What?

"I-I never said that."

"You said it to the prince."

"B-But that was two floors above these dungeons," she stammered. "H-How could you possibly—?" She cut herself off. She was likely doing this to throw her off. She was making assumptions from what was already known of her by the world. If someone of Kouen's stature married, several would have known and they would be aware that of the circumstances that brought them together. "He promised to save me if I were in any danger!"

"And you plan to sit there and wait for him to fly in here with his magic blade to slay all your enemies?" she mocked, laughing.

Asta frowned. "He said—"

"His ambitions are bigger than his interest in you." The chains in the adjacent room clanked. "Think about your position. He already controls your army. If you were carrying his child, you would have been his priority, but you are not."

"You don't know that! He doesn't know that either!" she shouted, ashamed of the conversation. "I could be!"

"Even if you were, you would likely be in the Kou Empire's capital being smothered with unwanted attention and nowhere near a war," Maeve said with strange certainty. "Think about saving your own ass. You won't always have a prince or soldiers to save you."

Asta sat back, utterly silenced.

Think about saving herself? She stared at her chains through the darkness helplessly.

How did one break out of chains? She did not possess super strength to tear them open. She could not pick their locks with Aghi's ease.

…Join him.

Maeve told her to join him.

Asta hiccupped as the idea set in. She did not want to think about betraying Kouen, but she started to wonder—and toy with the idea of deceiving Nikias into releasing her. Could she do so?

She searched her memory of him. Recent thoughts showed her violence that she didn't anticipate from him. His behavior was a deep contrast to memories of the Byzen Festival. He held her hand in silence as she cried out of guilt for having caused Vilhelm and Aghi pain. He was a great comfort to her during a difficult time.

Nikias wasn't the same person anymore. Perhaps and most likely, current circumstances changed him. She understood that he needed to be strong for his people and that he would also do everything in his power to ensure his victory, so she tried not to take offense with his actions.

She needed to do the same.

Asta managed to talk herself into a calmer disposition, though she remained afraid of the consequences that her actions could provoke. She let enough time go by, speaking to Maeve whenever the old woman called out to her, before she called for an audience with Nikias.

To ensure his approval, she added, "...and tell him that I will do as he asks."

A guard entered an hour later with a ring heavy with keys and approached her. "Hands up."

She raised them. He took her hands by the center chain and pulled them roughly to him, the coarse metal scrapped the flesh of her wrists. She yelped in pain. He cared little for her discomfort. He took his time searching for the correct key while holding the chain to her shackled wrists high enough that it bit into her skin.

Asta watched the blood spill from the skin pinched against the cuffs and followed it close as it slid gently, drawing a thin line down her angled arm to her elbow where it dripped onto her lap. She bit down hard. It burned. The filthy metal rubbing against the open wounds were a throbbing brand.

Tears formed in her eyes.

Continuously, a little voice in her mind reminded her that she was a princess and that she shouldn't be treated in such a manner. She let the thought run through her head a number of times because no person should be treated this way.

"Here it is," the soldier toyed.

He turned her right wrist hard to expose the lock and she made a sound in pain. He unlocked it, relieving one hand before he took apart the second cuff.

Asta took her left wrist into her hand, applying pressure to soothe the pain. The soldier offered her no time to fully enjoy the release when he grabbed her by the upper arm and hoisted her on her feet.

He raised a warning finger to her face and said, "Do not move."

She didn't—not while he unlocked her remaining bounds or when his hands lingered for a minute too long on her upper leg.

He shoved her out the door and she turned, searching the torch-lit dungeon for the adjacent door. The guard pushed her all the way up the stairs and into the presence of his prince, throwing her to the ground. He was dismissed with a wave of the prince's hand. He bowed out of the room as she recovered from the humiliation.

Nikias lounged across a long cushioned seat with a pink-haired woman lying comfortably over half his body, their limbs tangled and their clothing was made of fine translucent threads. The woman rose up, their bodies shifting to accommodate her sudden movements. Her long, curling hair slid down her shoulder as she reached for another piece of clothing by her feet to cover her heavy breasts.

"I heard you've had a change of heart," said Nikias, reaching for a slender bottle on the ground to fill the glass in his hand. "Care for a drink?"

He offered her his filled glass. The smell of plums and liquor filled the sweetened air. Lounging there with a beautiful woman was fitting for a man of his exalted position and it should not have upset her as much as it did, but it had. He appeared calm, as if he possessed no care in the world.

The woman stood and walked around the seat, taking the glass from his hand. She drank from it as Nikias leaned back, chuckling.

Asta picked herself from the ground knowing the woman was walking towards her and saw her stop before her. She stood a whole head taller than she did and stared down at her with cat-like eyes, bright and a vivid purple shade. A strange aura surrounded her that made Asta tense, prepared for anything she hoped would not strike.

"She is definitely much younger than I imagined," the woman said, eyeing her. She drank in her features without once reaching out to touch her, which she appreciated. "Quite small, very frail looking as you said, and scared, but not nearly as dangerous as she is made out to be. I hardly believe she has strength enough in those tiny hands to knock the crown from your head."

"That is the savage nature of the Ionian people," said Nikias. "So seemingly harmless on the outside, but they certainly have bite."

"Ah, look, how cruel you have been, my prince." The woman stepped aside and pointed to Asta's bleeding wrists, which she was quick to hide against her chest. "You were certainly raised better than to treat little girls in such a manner."

"Do not treat her like a child," said Nikias dismissively. "She did it to herself."

Nikias took another glass and filled it. The woman reached to a gold strap around her thigh and tugged free a gold pointer with a diamond end. "Hands up."

Asta obeyed, though she preferred not to, she reminded herself that she needed to cooperate.

Pointing the diamond end of her short, narrow stick, Asta watched a soft light wrap itself around her wounds and felt a warmth rise from the pit of her stomach as the various cuts disappeared completely. As the glow faded, she observed several flecks of gold vanishing with it. She saw them around Kouen often. The tiny, shapeless lights.

Healing Magic.

The woman was a magician.

"Thank you." Asta touched her wrists and felt smooth skin, fascinated by it. When she raised her eyes up to the magician's face, she noticed a strange expression leaving her face, replaced quickly with a pleasant one.

Ione didn't have magicians. They didn't hire them either. She'd seen tiny displays of magic from traveling magicians, but nothing on a large scale.

The pink-haired magician winked at her and turned in Nikias' direction. "Farewell, my prince."

She blew him a kiss and exited the room.

They were alone again. Nikias stood and sauntered to her with the wine in his hand.

Asta was guarded. Enough time had been wasted. She could see he understood so as well.

"I will do as you ask," she said.

He reached to take her hand and pushed the glass into it. He smiled at her sweetly, reminding her of the boy she met eight years ago, but she no longer trusted that smile.

"Drink," he urged. "You must be thirsty."

She stared at the sweet smelling liquid, wary of drinking it. She raised her eyes to him and brought the glass to her lips, taking a small sip. The taste was so strong that she coughed it up into her hand, turning away from him. Her throat was too dry to handle the liquor mingling among the berry flavor.

"Too much?" asked Nikias, taking the glass and drinking from it directly. He gestured her to him with his fingers. "Come. I'll have food brought for you."

Asta didn't move as he walked towards the entrance. She stood her ground firmly. "Tell me what I'm supposed to do!"

He froze.

"I agreed to speak with my husband about ending this war on your behalf."

"Ah," he said, turning, the wine sloshing in the glass, "but I don't need you to _just _speak with him. I expect you to force him to agree to my treaty."

She couldn't force him to do anything, but she wouldn't argue with Nikias either.

"Then let me do it. Let me go back to—"

"To him?" he mocked. "You are much more valuable here with me. Despite the recent marriage and unfortunate circumstances, your husband has entered my domain to find you."

"You're lying."

Nikias shook his head. "Regrettably, I am not." He drank of the wine deeply, observing her reacting. "Do tell me your secret. Have you bewitched him?"

She ignored his mocking, reminding herself that she needed to hold it together. "So will I have to wait until he arrives here?"

He laughed. "That is implying he can make it this far without dying first."

That left a bitter taste on her tongue because it reminded her vaguely of that repetitive dream she had experienced as they approached Corrinean shores.

Nikias had her accommodated in his palace, commending her for staying composed. He had promised her freedom among his servants and guards, informing everyone that she should be treated as a princess. She had been escorted into a high-ceiling room filled with exquisite furnishings and a plush bed. There had been a flock of women waiting inside to help with her bath. They had stripped and washed her, despite her resistance. She had been clothed in the loose fitting clothing of the Corrinean elite and had promptly been returned to Nikias' presence.

She hadn't wanted to feel pampered and safe with Nikias. She hadn't wanted an excuse to ruin her chances of leaving.

Nikias eyed her pleasantly as she crossed into the room to join him for dinner. The pink-haired magician was there with them, seated in the chair to Nikias' left, and smiled at her. She dressed in a way that attracted the eye with gauzy fabrics that covered up enough to be considered a normal outfit, but not enough to say it was decent. It suited her. She had a beautiful physique that would suit any style of dressing.

Asta was gestured into the chair on the other end of the long, golden table. Its surface was filled with various platters of food, fish and meat dishes with vegetables and fruits. The sweet scent of honeyed bread made her stomach growl, but she kept her hands on her lap after sitting, waiting for Nikias to say something.

A man poured her a drink and walked back to stand with the four other soldiers forming a line a few feet from the table with the two servants attending them that evening.

"Introduce yourself," said Nikias, drinking from his glass. "Properly."

The pink-haired woman inclined her head toward Asta. "I'm Agnes. It's a pleasure to make your formal acquaintance, your highness."

"Thank you again," she responded, "for earlier."

"Any time, your highness. Healing you was…an _experience_." Agnes smiled. "I do hope you don't mind my presence."

"No," she said, "I don't."

"Excuse me." She returned to her seat.

Dinner proceeded pleasantly. Nikias didn't speak of the war or of his plans, he engaged her in small talk instead. It unnerved her because she worried about Kouen traversing the danger zones. She wanted to ask questions, but understood that he would avoid answering them. He made it clear that they were only having dinner.

Asta expected to be escorted to the room provided for her once that was done, but Nikias and Agnes led her into a different area full of recliners covered in plush pillows with high, partly opened windows that faced the mountainous range that surrounded the palace and the scent of something sweet in the air. She took a seat at the edge of one lounge chair in front of a rectangular table filled with a wide selection of wine and liquor. There were bottles without labels among them that piqued her curiosity, but not enough to ask after them.

Agnes picked up an empty glass of wine and leaned over the alcohol. She ran her finger above their corked heads while contemplating her selection before taking one inside a violet glass bottle. She filled the cup to the middle with rose-colored liquor and presented it to her.

"I think you will appreciate the taste," she told her.

"Thank you." Asta took it, though distracted by the way Nikias stood contemplatively at one of the windows kept her from tasting it. Agnes poured Nikias a drink and took it to him.

Not a moment later, Straton entered. He knelt before the prince as he faced him. "I bring news, my king."

Nikias cast a fleeting glance in her direction. "Come with me."

The two exited, leaving Agnes alone in her presence. The magician sat down right beside her, so close that their legs were pressed firmly against one another. Agnes draped her arm over the back of their seat, caging Asta in as she moved closer. Asta grew anxious as she looked to the magician, confused by her actions.

"What are you?" asked Agnes, staring at her with brilliant violet eyes.

Asta sank in her seat, taken aback by the question. She'd never been asked that question before.

"Are you a Dungeon Capturer?"

"No." That struck her as an odd inquiry to make.

"Are you certain?" Agnes scanned her thoroughly. "Well, I don't see a metal vessel on you, so I suppose you aren't." She frowned, deflated. She leaned back into her seat, bringing her wine glass to her lips to drink. She hummed as she did and Asta quietly listened to the melodious sound of her voice. "Are you like me then? A magician?"

"No, I'm not."

"You're not a Magi, are you?"

"No."

"You are quite the oddity then," said Agnes, disappointed by her responses.

Curious, however, Asta asked, "Why are you asking these questions?"

"Has anyone ever mistaken you in the same manner I have?"

"No," she said initially, staring into the rose liquid in her drinking glass, "No, not that I am aware."

Agnes moved closer to Asta, letting her arm fall across her shoulders. "Do you know what rukh is?'

She shook her head, leaning away from Agnes.

"It is a natural phenomenon," she explained. "It is the main source of magoi—what magicians like me use to perform spells."

"Oh, I see."

"Naturally, a magician is a person that can communicate with the rukh and give it orders to perform magic."

Asta nodded, following the explanations but not quite understanding their relation to her earlier inquiries.

"You see," started Agnes, "when I healed you earlier, I didn't command it."

"W-What does that mean?" asked Asta, recalling the magician's expression after she had healed her. Her pink brows had been drawn and her violet eyes had darkened with strange emotion, but the look had been fleeting. As soon as she had blinked, a pleasant smile had stared back at her.

"I don't know," said Agnes. "My first guess was magi. Magi are loved by the rukh. Naturally, they flock to them, as they appear to do with you. However, it would be impossible for other magi to exist apart from the three that already do. Dungeon Capturer was my next guess, but your country has not had one in a very long time and you're not carrying a metal vessel. I would have seen it. Last was magician, but you say that you aren't that either. I mean, unless you were being untruthful, which I don't think is the case, you should fall under one of those categories as the rukh behave unnaturally with you."

"Unnaturally in what sense?"

"I didn't heal you."

"I-I don't understand, b-but I saw that you did."

"I hadn't commanded them yet before they had already done it," she responded. "I have never seen anything like that before. So, I would like to know, what are you?"

"Human," Asta answered. "I am human."

"No normal human could do something like that."

She didn't understand what it meant any more than Agnes did. She felt fear prickling in her skin.

"Have you seen the rukh?" asked Agnes.

"What does it look like?"

"A small, glowing bird."

"Gold?"

"Yes, yes, gold," said Agnes, growing excited in her seat. "Then you can see them?"

"No, I can't," she lied. "I only recalled a magician once talk to me about a small, glowing gold bird. I was a child, so my memory is fuzzy."

Again, Agnes was disappointed.

Nikias reentered the room in a quick stride, the door slammed shut behind him. He looked upon Asta and Agnes with narrowed, cold eyes. "We are moving out at first light to unite with Prince Kouen of the Kou Empire." Fixing his icy stare to Asta's eyes, he specified, "You will be expected to ask him to retreat. We will discuss this on our way."

Asta stood, worried. "How is he?"

"Surprisingly well."

"Has he made it out this way?"

"No," said Nikias. "You will have to excuse me for lying, but your husband never entered the danger zones. It seems he is as willing as your father was in letting you rot for their benefit."

That stung as it sunk in, penetrating deep into her skin. "Why lie?"

"I wanted to see if it would hurt you," he admitted coldly.

He called in a soldier to have Asta escorted to her room. There was someone constantly watching her, leaving her no way of getting comfortable after having put distance between herself and Nikias. She sat, unmoving for a long time debating what she could do. If there were soldiers following her every move, no matter how insignificant, she was being observed and she knew that wouldn't change when she was face to face with Kouen again. She wouldn't be able to tell him that she was not betraying him. Tell him that she was thinking about herself—admit to being selfish.

Asta sighed. She didn't like how that sounded. It made her feel terrible and she hated that.

What could she do? She had no choice but to take a side. She had chosen Ione and Ione connected her to the Kou Empire. Her hands trembled at the thought of it all, but painful as it was for her to watch the kingdoms around hers perish hers would survive.

Asta looked behind her to the gold-clad guard standing at the entrance of her extravagant prison. He stared back in silence. She turned away and started to think up ways to get a message to Kouen. She would be stripping him of the Ionian army and turning them against him if he didn't agree to retreat. She understood that would be one of Nikias' requests. It would be a show of faith.

She contemplated various ways to assure him that she would be on his side and his side only, taking into account that she would be watched always. She doubted she would be allowed a moment alone with her husband.

Asta found writing utensils and a paper to scribble on. She wrote out a concise message that would show she wasn't betraying him truly when she had the opportunity to use the restroom. Once she finished, she tucked it folded inside her clothes. She considered leaving it there, but she would be searched.

Instead, she searched the room for something with a harder exterior to wrap her message to preserve its contents in her mouth. She couldn't let the fact that she'd be kissing her husband ruin her plan. It simply would happen as it would with any pleasantly married couple. She found a cylindrical shaped scrap that seemed to have peeled from the exterior lining of a painting hung from the wall. She wrapped her note in it and while the guard distracted himself by turning his gaze elsewhere when she pretended to undress, she put it in her mouth.

She fit it between her cheek and teeth without it appearing strange, but felt it was harder to speak. She tried practicing to talk with it in her mouth by asking the guard questions, but he merely looked at her suspiciously for having developed a lisp. She acted insulted by his reaction and managed to lessen his distrust.

Asta went to bed, knowing that she would be up with the sunshine tomorrow, though she wouldn't be able to sleep worrying about what would happen when she encountered Kouen and told him to surrender. Regardless, she closed her eyes and tried to sleep only she replayed the image of a white crown turning to dust in her hands.

{ **iii** }

_Nothing changed. The Byzen Festival resumed without a hitch, though Asta no longer enjoyed it as she had initially. She only wanted it to be over, so that she wouldn't have to continue acting like the perfect princess when she couldn't leave Vilhelm and Aghi's side. It had taken her father's orders to have her dragged out of the physician's practice kicking and screaming until her voice gave out. _

_She had been forced into a bath, stripped of her clothes while she struggled against the many hands holding her in the water. Brita continuously shouted at her to calm down, but she yelled back that she didn't want to participate in the festival. She wanted to call in sick, but nobody listened. She was scrubbed down, dried, and dressed into a new dress._

_Brita asked everyone to leave and sat her down with a frown. "You cannot act in such an unsightly manner. You are a princess. You should be an example, not a spectacle."_

_"I want to be with—"_

_"They are well taken care of, you have—"_

_"But it's my fault!"_

_"You have no obligation to them! That is enough of this!"_

_"They're my—"_

_"They are not your friends! They're your servants! It is their job to die if you order them to!" Brita took her by the arm and dragged her out of the room crying. "Stop crying!"_

_Asta hiccupped and cried into her hands. "They are my friends! I'm supposed to take care of them! I'm supposed to take care of my friends and I—"_

_"We are not your friends!" snapped Brita. "We are kind to you because we are paid for our kindness! We do favors for you because we are receiving payment for it at the end of the month! We cater to your every stupid need because that is our job! Understand the difference between you and the people serving under you!"_

_Stunned by the cruelty of her words, Asta could only stare at her attendant, who had always been kind and considerate of her. The tears didn't stop falling. They doubled and quickened down her cheeks._

_Brita's expression twisted into one of regret. She raised a shaky hand to her mouth. "Oh, princess, I—"_

_"What is the meaning of this?"_

_Asta looked over her shoulder to see her father, who frowned down at her._

_"Are you not dressed?" asked Hákon._

_She scrambled onto her feet and ran to his side, still sobbing. Hákon bent down to hoist her into his arms and dried her tears. He looked at Brita, who took a frightened step back and bowed._

_"You are dismissed."_

_"Excuse me, your highness." Brita rushed out of sight._

_Asta clung to him, crying harder._

_"Now," said Hákon, holding her up a little higher. "Should we have breakfast with your mother? Or would you like to go downstairs and join the others?"_

_She didn't need to say either or because he knew her quite well._

_Hákon sent a servant to deliver a message to Bengt about excusing them from breakfast with their royal guests. It felt odd for her to realize that she would be having breakfast together with both of her parents, who saw nothing of each other since her father locked her mother in the eastern tower. She thought it should have made her angry, but it had the opposite effect. She'd grown so excited that her tears had stopped, though the sting of Brita's words lingered, they were overshadowed by this unprecedented development._

_It wasn't that she forgot that her father was the reason Vilhelm and Aghi were in the doctor's care because it was hard not to remember when she had the desire to sit by their bedside until they were better. This occurrence, that of her father's current disposition and his attitude towards her, was so rare a sight that she couldn't help but enjoy it. To be cherished and worried over by her father to the point he approved a visit to her mother—and even joined her—was such a remarkable action on his part. It was these moments that made it impossible to deny that he cared at all._

_Though naivety was a fault that Asta was all too guilty of, her heart had never not been in the right place._

_Hákon entered Ingrid's tower with Asta in his arms and handed her small weight to her mother upon surprising her. Ingrid wrapped her up in her arms, her face filling with joy as she pressed her cheek to Asta's, lowering her eyes to the floor to avoid the king's sharp stare._

_"Thank you," she whispered, meek as a mouse. She rubbed Asta's hair lovingly and kissed her at every opportunity she had. She lifted her eyes to steal another look at Hákon. "Why are you here? Why have you brought her?"_

_"To see you and spend time with you," said Hákon. "I am not so cruel that I would keep you from your child."_

_The ambience between them was tense, stretched out taut as if any other pull from either side could result in it snapping. If it ever did, she predicted someone would get hurt and that it'd be her mother. _

_Ingrid held his words with suspicion, even after he guided her to sit at the table when several servers walked in carrying their breakfast. _

_Asta bounced excitedly in her seat and she looked from one parent's face to the other. _

_Her mother barely touched her food. She rarely spoke to Hákon. In fact, when it came time to leave, as she crushed Asta to her chest, she told him not to bring him again against her ear. _

_Asta stared at her full of confusion._

_"He took everything from me," she whispered. "He is doing the same to you."_

_"Asta," called Hákon from the entrance of the tower, out of earshot according to her mother. "We cannot keep our guests waiting."_

_Asta hugged her mother goodbye. She was not sure how long it'd be until she saw her again, so she made sure that she told her how much she loved her. "From here to the sun," she told her, making her smile._

_"Me too," Ingrid said, her voice hoarse. "I love you from here to the sun."_

_Asta left with her father to join their guests as preparations for the next event were finalized and all of the champions looked ready to compete. Asta jumped into Werner's arms when he crouched down with his arms outstretched before her and told him animatedly that she ate breakfast with both of her parents._

_"I think papa was saying sorry for hurting Aghi and Vilhelm yesterday," she added. It made sense in her mind. He wasn't much of a vocal person. His actions always spoke louder._

_"What happened to them?" asked Werner, full of concern._

_Asta lowered her voice as she looked around at the other royalty. "They were punished for taking me to see mama," she whispered. "I tried to stop them from being hurt, but nobody would listen."_

_"Werner, you should be going now."_

_Asta turned to see Bengt and was set back on her feet by Werner, who vowed to win the next contest, before he went to join the other champions. Bengt stared at her coldly and it frightened her to see so much disdain in his eyes. _

_"You should stop acting like a little mouse," he told her. "Snooping is not a quality a princess should have."_

_She didn't like him anymore than he liked her. He never treated her kindly, so she felt her feelings were justified unlike him. She had never done anything to make him hate her, but he did. He didn't seem like the type that would need a good reason._

_Bengt answered her father's call when two shadows came to sit on either side of her, startling her when a strong pair of arms hoisted her up. She yelped, kicked her feet when a familiar, deep voice chuckled nearby._

_"Melik!" she cried, surprised. Beside him, Baron smiled. The two brothers stared up at her full of amusement. "Baron!"_

_"How can you be so tiny?" asked Baron, pinching her cheek. "Do they not feed you enough in this country?"_

_"I eat every day! Three times!" she stated._

_"Little servings," said Melik. "Not many nutrients. You should visit Hassah. We will feed you like a queen."_

_The two laughed and she felt they were teasing her. Her cheeks were burning with embarrassment. _

_"Stop teasing the girl." The Princess of Baryon appeared accompanied by the soft click of her heeled shoes, flicking her long red hair over her shoulder. "You'll not be welcomed here again if you keep up that behavior." The lovely princess walked up to her, putting her face close to hers and smiled amiably. "Do not listen to them. If you eat any more than you already do, you'll blow up to the size of a balloon and then nobody'll want to marry you."_

_"What an awful thing to say," complained Baron._

_"Indeed, quite terrible," remarked Melik. He smiled at her. "We have a brother around your age that would have no qualms about marrying you."_

_"Whether you are the size of a balloon or not," added Baron._

_"You're wasting your time," came the Prince of Nohr's bored response. "The purpose of this Byzen Festival is to secure her marriage to the Silver Prince."_

_"Huh?" Asta looked from one face to the other, confused by the revelation._

_"Sure, the festival is a vehicle used to celebrate our relationship as a cluster of kingdoms, but it is also used to deepen ties by proposing marriages," explained the Prince of Nohr._

_The Princess of Baryon stared at him starry-eyed. "Much like the future union of Baryon and Nohr."_

_The Nohr prince grimaced. "You should look into your second choice—I volunteer Melik. He's your age."_

_The princess huffed. "I refuse."_

_"Ouch," muttered Baron._

_When the Prince of Nohr left, the Princess of Baryon chased after him, demanding a reason. Melik put Asta back on her feet and offered his hand. "Would you like to join us for this event?"_

_Asta nodded, accepting his hand. She wanted to know all about Hassah._

_"We would also like to remind you that we have a brother your age," said Baron, taking hold of her other hand._

_"What is Hassah like?" she asked, as the two led her outside of the castle. The event would take place in the Hult Forests. A hunt for a marked boar._

_"Hassah is a kingdom of merchants," said Melik. "We are the firm foundation of the Byzen Cluster. We ensure monetary circulation and manage trade within the kingdoms and established routes that are used for commerce with the rest of the world."_

_"We are a household name in textiles, too," added Baron. "We export billions of our textile products around the world each year."_

_"That sounds amazing," said Asta. "It sounds very hard and complicated, though. Is it hard to do?"_

_Melik and Baron exchanged looks, chuckling._

_"Our mother is an exceedingly intelligent woman and our country is very supportive of her. Without a combination of both, I do not think we would be as successful, but we manage," said Baron._

_There were stands of seats for them to sit in around the arched entrance set up to lead into the forest where she spotted Werner in the middle of stretching while the female champion of Lorah talked to him with a coy smile._

_"Did you know that Hassah and Ione are polar opposites?" asked Melik after they found seats behind the King of Lorah and the Queen of Baryon, who shot an odd glance in her direction. There was one whole row of empty seats between them. The brothers wanted the best view, so they opted to sit at the very far back of the elevated seats._

_"In what way?" asked Asta._

_"Ione is a militant country," said Baron. "It has always been."_

_"Hassah is a merchant country," continued Melik. "We're a country of peace. Our land is holy."_

_She blinked up at him. "Holy?"_

_"Sacred," he tried._

_"We also don't believe in the concept of war, which Ione is famous for," said Baron. "You are warriors. War is a language that you use to communicate your desires and ambitions."_

_"But you have warriors, too," said Asta, though she didn't fully grasp their point. "Nero of Hassah is a famous hero. He led the army that saved your country from invasion."_

_The two brothers smiled at one another. _

_"Of course we have warriors and guards. Every country does, but we don't train them as much as the Ionian military trains theirs," said Baron. "We should be able to handle small incidents, like any country, but that isn't our duty inside the Cluster. That is Ione's job. You are the sword of the kingdoms and you play an important role in how we all function as a Cluster."_

_"How are we different?" asked Asta._

_"Think of it in this manner," started Baron. "If trouble arises for both the kingdoms of Ione and Hassah, Ione would solve it with their army and Hassah will do everything in their power to avoid doing something as drastic as picking up their swords."_

_"But why?"_

_"Because if trouble came to our country, we wouldn't be able to fight," said Melik. "Like we said earlier, Hassah is our holy land. We cannot shed blood on it. We won't. So we will do all that we can to avoid that. Lord Nero did not lead the merchants to war. He called them forth to defend our country until Ione and Corrin arrived to draw invaders out of our country."_

_"Oh."_

_"So when you become queen, we're going to be relying on you and your Silver Prince to protect us in Hassah," said Melik, grinning widely._

_"Why Nikias?"_

_"Weren't you listening? You should have noticed it too, how much time your father has spent with Nikias' mother. They're definitely discussing the possibility of a marriage," said Baron. "I think it would be foolish for Nikias to refuse. Anyone would benefit from an alliance to Ione."_

_Asta shook her head. "But I can't! I don't like Nikias like that! He's beautiful, but we're just friends!"_

_They laughed._

_"What?" she asked, confused by their reaction._

_Her confusion only amused them further, but they never clarified the meaning of their words._

_Werner's extensive hunting experience helped him track and capture the prized boar that made him winner for that day's event. Asta congratulated him, but once that was done, she searched the small crowd for the princes and thanked them for keeping her company, before running to the physician's practice to be by Aghi and Vilhelm's side. If they were awake, she planned to entertain them with talks of that day's event. She would tell them that it was boring without them there making faces at her throughout it and all the thoughts that she had about what she wanted to say made her realize how much she needed them to be there with her._

_Asta arrive at the tower to be told that her loyal guards were waiting restlessly for her and inside the room where their narrow patient beds sat side-by-side, the two sat all patched up with weak smiles and their eyes glossy and bruised._

_She started to cry as soon as she saw them. And she repeated, "I'm so sorry."_

_As the two struggled to find the words to comfort her, Asta felt a hand reach into hers and lifted her head to see Nikias, who smiled down at her._

_"You cry too easily," he told her, "Look at them. They're fine and they don't blame you for anything." _

_"But I'm so happy!" _

_She couldn't stop in that moment. She was so overcome with emotion that it was impossible to do so. She was a broken dam, overflowing. It had felt like an impossibly long time since she had felt so relieved that her father's actions had not become irreversible consequences._

_Nikias sat with her in a quiet hallway after she had been asked kindly by the doctor to let Aghi and Vilhelm continue to rest. She was more than happy to listen if that meant they'd get on their feet faster. _

_There would be dinner held for all guests in the Great Hall as always. From their position, Asta could hear the tinkering of the servants and their chatter as final preparations were made for it._

_"I will admit that I thought you to be in a sorry state," said Nikias. "I thought you were a sad princess to be pitied because not even your servants listen to you." Most of them didn't on her father's orders, so she wasn't affronted by the statement. "But if you have soldiers like that Aghi and Vilhelm, I think you're not pitiful at all. In fact, I think you're really fortunate. They would do anything for you and you wouldn't have to ask."_

_Asta smiled, lowering her eyes to her hands._

_"If those soldiers are your subjects, I think you will make a splendid queen."_

_Yet she knew that she'd never be queen._

{ **iv** }

"Repeat it back," said Nikias.

"I will ask my husband to surrender and accept your terms," started Asta, her heart fluttering with anxiety. She kept her gaze steady on the shackles that bound her wrists together. "If he refuses, I will take control of the Ionian Army and turn their might against him."

"Good."

The two stood in a small alcove on the side of a mountain road where they were out of earshot, though Agnes stood nearby to provide protection if needed.

"I want to know who the traitor is," said Asta.

Nikias shook his head. "I've told you. It's best for the traitor to remain anonymous."

"You cannot keep their name from me."

"I can and will."

"If you won't give me the name, I want something else in return for my loyalty."

He laughed. "You're making demands?"

"I deserve recompense for the manner in which I was treated," she stated. "You chained and threw me in a dungeon." She bore the slippery hands of his guard and thinking of it made her skin roil with disgust. "You've been harmful to me."

"Is your life not enough? Your kingdom once we reach a peaceful conclusion to this violent affair that your husband's country provoked?"

"I want one more thing."

He sighed. "What is it?"

"The Ionian prisoner in the dungeons—Maeve," she told him. "I want her released."

"Fine," he said without a thought. "If that is all, you may have it."

Nikias stepped closer. His menacing presence kept her still, cautious of his every move since his violent outburst. It frightened her to realize that she continued to search for goodness in him. Her memories of him were shaping to be more and more of a deceptive recollection conjured up by her imagination. He was a devil clad in a mantle of kindness. The boy she knew had been devoured, murdered by the betrayal that her father had dealt and left for her to handle.

"Do not plan to do more than is expected of you," he said, reaching to wrap a hand around her hair and forcing her face back. "And if you betray me, know that you will not be making it out alive." He leaned in so close that she could feel his breath near her mouth. "Your husband is not invincible and your people will be left unprotected. I will do to all of them as was done to my sisters. Nobody will be spared. So, do not betray me." As he spoke each statement to follow, his grip on her hair tightened. "Do not think it—not even to consider it—and do not breathe a word of it in the hopes that it'll mean something. You will not succeed."

"I won't betray you," she assured him, though her betrayal sat scribbled haphazardly in a piece of paper in her mouth. It burned its mark between her cheek and teeth. She risked everything with that message. "I only want my country spared."

"And spared it will be if you follow my instruction faithfully," said Nikias. "It won't be long for the rest of the Byzen Kingdoms to take action too."

"What?"

"You didn't honestly think they'd sit idle as the Kou Empire encroaches on our countries, did you? Ione and Baryon were expelled from our Treaty of Alliance, but Corrin remains faithful to the Cluster and we're in danger. It won't be long before Hassah, Nohr, and Lorah lift their weapons against the Kou Empire."

How could she have been so naïve?

"You can trust me," she said, blinking back tears. "I won't betray you. He means nothing to me." His grip on her hair loosened as the first tear rolled down her cheek. "If you can give me back my country…I'll do anything. For them."

Nikias rubbed the away the trail her tear left behind with his thumb and invaded her personal space as his other hand came to rest on the other side of her head. Her hair slid from his hold as he relaxed his grip to move to the other side of her face.

"And me? What would you do for me…?" he asked, tilting her head back. "What will you do for my country? And my sisters? What will you do for them? Who suffered because of your father's savagery?"

Why did she have to be so stupid?

She was tired of being in this awful situation. Who decided that she would be a tool for anyone's use? Why didn't she have the strength to break away from that? What was so frightening about standing firm like everyone else around her? Who cursed her to live out this cruel fate?

Why did she search for so many excuses?

Asta reached to wrap her hands around his wrists, so scared she trembled. She removed them from her face, squeezing him. "Help me recuperate my country," she told him, her heart lodged in her throat making it hard for her to swallow, "and I will do everything in my power to repair my father's wrongdoings."

"Then why is your voice shaking?"

She was scared. She let him go, taking a step back to put distance between them. "We have spoken long enough. I don't want any misunderstandings to result—"

"You shouldn't worry for misunderstandings. I wouldn't be so stupid as to put my hands on you."

Nikias called for Agnes to relay to the rest of his army that they would be continuing their journey to the giant bridge. Asta's personal feelings and self-loathing intensified knowing they were minutes from arriving.

As they were, Asta was unchained. She felt the weight of Nikias' cloak fall upon her shoulders and when she turned to him, he pulled it closed across the flimsy aqua gown she had been dressed in. He gestured her toward the center of the wide bridge where she spied Kouen and Werner. Further back where the Kou and Ionian banners flew side-by-side, she spotted Aghi with his head wrapped in gauze and his skin marred by visible cuts and bruises. His face lit up with a mixture of relief, anger, and despair. He smiled weakly, but lowered his head. She wanted to comfort him and tell him that everything was fine, that she wasn't wounded or scared—though she had been and she was.

She walked beside Nikias, as he made sure to remind her to do multiple times throughout their journey. Each step accelerated her heart. It would've been too easy for her to run to them with the certainty that she would be protected. She couldn't pretend Kouen would go back on his word. Trusting him had been her solution to many problems. And though everything had changed because her father had left her with his mess, despite having been frightened by the new reality that had become of her life, she had known deep down in her heart that when he had assured her that no harm would befall her with him that he hadn't lied.

Asta had come close to despair, believing that he had lied to her when she had needed to be rescued from confinement in Nikias' secret castle, but Maeve had opened her eyes to the fact that she hadn't.

Her steps halted a millisecond after Nikias, by then her heart had pounded itself to exhaustion and weighed her down. She raised her eyes to the narrow stare of her husband's and the fiercely protective look that her cousin gave as a prelude to the dangerous and vicious things he would care little about doing to Nikias for taking her prisoner. Yet there were no cuffs around her wrists to link to such a terrible accusation, and there were no marks for him to gather evidence. There was only her, not a scratch on her, no presence of abuse or humiliation, or even fright.

"Princess," said Werner, speaking as the relieved sigh left his body. He stepped forward into the arm Kouen stretched out to stop him and glanced at him briefly. "Are you okay, princess?'

"I'm okay," she assured. "I asked Nikias to bring me here."

"What?"

Asta stepped closer to Kouen, raising her hand in Werner's direction. The simple gesture asked that he move away and he did, putting a few steps between them, but did so with an air of impatience, pacing a little as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"I wanted to speak to you…in private if possible," she told Kouen.

"I doubt that whatever you wish to speak of is something you cannot say in front of the prince," said Kouen, very calmly. He was enviously collected. "Speak, Asta."

Asta swallowed the lump in her throat. "We should stop this war. There is no meaning in it. You are only exerting your power because you can. This is not our home. It isn't our land to claim. Why can we not end this on peaceful terms? I am here to implore you that we change this in reasonable terms."

"Whether you are adamant on remaining naïve or not will not change the reality of the situation," he told her. "I was promised the Byzen Cluster and I will see it through to the end that I acquire it."

"What a terribly unreasonable man," muttered Nikias to Agnes, who hummed excitedly in response.

"I ask for you to end the war against Corrin," she said again. "You can have the rest of the Cluster, except this country. Let them be…free from the control of the Kou Empire."

"Werner, take the princess—"

"No—"

Werner clasped one of her arms when Nikias took her other wrist. Kouen drew his sword and Agnes pointed her golden wand. Tensions behind them arose. Arrows were fitted into bows that were drawn tight, projectiles ready to soar, and the warriors at Kouen's back prepared to storm across the bridge willing to fight for their lives for the sake of their future emperor.

"This was a foolish move on your part," said Kouen.

"Was it?" asked Nikias, smirking.

"Werner, release me," ordered Asta. He didn't. "Release me now!"

As his grip loosened, she jerked her arm away from him and snatched her wrist from Nikias. She forced her way between Kouen and Agnes, forcing the two to draw back their weapons.

"Stop it!" she snapped. She willed her body to stay still, but it shook violently and she fisted her hands so hard that her nails dug into her palm. "I've made up my mind and if yours cannot be changed, then I will take my army and challenge you to take Corrin from us."

"What is the meaning of this?" demanded Werner.

"You heard me! If Kouen refuses to leave Corrin, I will take control of the Ionian army and help Nikias remove every last Kou soldier in this country!"

Kouen smirked. "Good, I was beginning to grow bored."

"If you think that your rebellious wife is all we have to stop you, you are sorely mistaken," said the affronted Silver Prince.

Agnes raised her wand and from the tip, a spherically bound explosion detonated at her solid command. Everything within the bridge was engulfed by clouds of black smoke and fire.

Asta heard the sound of arrows singing through the air, the shouts of soldiers, and the way the stone bridge burst upon the initial impact. The force behind the magically charged attack threw her off the side of the ledge and gravity sent her falling down to meet the rocky sea below.

She wasn't unconscious, but she'd been disoriented by the attack. Although, it hadn't struck her directly, it did hit her hard that it sent her flying back. She'd heard the impact as if it had crashed into a solid wall. She saw the world around her dissolve into a blur of colors that came to a sudden halt.

Asta lifted her face up and met Kouen's and immediately dissolved into tears. His appearance was altered slightly. His hair lightened to an orange shade and was longer in length; the tips resembled the heads of snakes. His body was clothed in soft fabrics and gold.

"I'm sorry," she cried, reaching up to touch his face. Her voice came out strange as the note un-lodged itself from its place. She could feel it stuck to her tongue as she spoke. She tasted blood, but didn't recall biting herself. "I'm so sorry."

Kouen's gaze was steady on her mouth. She realized that he must have seen it, the tiny message she rolled up for him and lifted her upper body. He leaned forward, meeting her lips halfway. She passed on the piece to him. She flooded with heat, though brief as the contact was, she felt everything she wished she hadn't.

She liked him.

"Play your piece, Asta," said Kouen. "No more tears."

"I'm sorry."

He left her standing atop of slippery rock on the bottom as the bridge came apart stone by stone, crashing down all around her as she watched him go using the falling debris as steps to return to his army. She searched the surrounding area for a way to make it back up when she heard Agnes voice followed by a gold light encasing her in a small box that brought her up to the gateway into the danger zones where she was surprised to see the rest of the Ionian army, Werner and Aghi included. They were surrounded by mist.

She was swarmed by several of her soldiers. Werner asked her repeatedly if she was okay while Aghi apologized and held her hand clasped between both of his.

"How are you all here?" asked Asta, breathless.

"The prince's magicians created a bridge for us," said Werner.

"And the Kou soldiers?"

"Were pushed back by me," said Agnes. "Your prince has gone to protect them. This leaves us enough time to abscond until we receive our back up."

Nikias' voice cut in between, shouting for everyone to follow him. Asta ordered her men to obey, though there were a few that were displeased by what that meant. Brenna Falk's grimace was especially poignant in the sea of other furious expressions.

Asta ran up to join Nikias and grabbed him by the arm, forcing him to turn. "How could you allow her to unleash such an attack? I could have died!"

Nikias grabbed her by the chin. "But alas, you didn't. Be grateful to that."

She shoved his hand from her face, aware that the Ionian army was watching. She couldn't be the frail disappointment that her father had made out of her. He jerked his wrist from her grip immediately after. The tension between them skyrocketed until Agnes cut between them with a tight smile that only served to anger Nikias more than placate him.

"We're returning to the palace," said Nikias to Agnes. "Divide your magicians evenly throughout the troops."

Agnes complied.

The trek back to the palace was filled with inquiry from Asta's soldiers. Unhappiness and confusion filled their ranks, but Werner's leadership and loyalty to her pacified them—at least, most of them. She heard the quiet murmur of dissent among the ones to favor her less and she didn't blame them if they based their distrust on her lack of experience with things such as politics and warfare, but if they were behaving in this manner because they favored Kouen, she was none too pleased. She couldn't let herself become distracted by that, reminded that every leader couldn't please everyone with their actions.

Upon her arrival to the hidden palace, Asta asked for her compensation and she was taken back underground to the dungeon. Werner accompanied her. He insisted. Aghi would have as well had he not been discouraged from doing so because he was still recovering from the wounds he sustained in the tunnel. He shouldn't have been standing, putting pressure on his wounded foot, but he was stubborn and she couldn't have stopped him if she wanted. She managed then, holding his face in her hands with his forehead pressed against hers, and she begged him in a single word weighty with all of the emotion in her heart—"Stay."

The soldier carrying the dungeon keys halted after leaving the final step and turned to her, holding his torch high above his helmeted head. "What cell, your highness?"

Asta led him to the cell where she had been kept and pointed to the one sitting to its right. "That one."

He rummaged through the link of keys as he walked towards it and unlocked it. He pushed the heavy door open to reveal a dusty, empty space. He turned back to her as she stared at it astonished.

"Would you like me to try the other cell as well?"

"No."

"Princess?" called Werner.

She crossed the threshold, wading through hundreds of spider webs that came apart with the sweep of her arm, though stuck close to her, stubbornly clinging though she tried to shake them off. She saw the narrow opening from where Maeve's voice drifted into her cell when something briefly shining caught her eye. She moved to it, to the wall, and found a small round mirror. Her reflection in it was murky; the gold that encrusted it was dulled by dirt, time, and neglect. She reached to take it from its place expecting it to be glued strong, but it came loose without as much as a tug.

Underneath her fingertips, she felt something carved and turned it to read its message. There was none but a symbol of a raven.

Maeve wasn't there. So, she imagined it all. As insane as that made her seem, she appreciated the nudge it had given her to move on her own two feet. Obviously, it hadn't turned out to be a huge disaster if Kouen approved and praised her for it, too.

"Have you gotten what you needed, princess?" asked the soldier.

"Yes."

Asta exited with the mirror held close and Werner at her heels, questioning her with his stare. She waited until they were above ground surrounded by the finery of Nikias' castle and out of everyone's earshot to reveal the contents of her mind to her cousin.

"In Ione, did you ever hear of a woman called Maeve?" she asked, anxious when she saw the manner in which his face changed in recognition of the name. She could only assume that by the manner in which his eyebrows drew close in inquiry and his lips upturned a little into a frown that it wasn't good.

"She was a midwife," he answered, not meeting her gaze. "Why do you ask?"

"Only a midwife?"

"Yes, only a midwife," he repeated.

"I don't believe you."

"What more is there to say?" he replied, raising his voice. "There could have been thousands of women named Maeve in our country and there was only one that I recalled was called by that name, who so happened to be a midwife."

"Was she my mother's midwife?" asked Asta, zeroing in on the small changes in his countenance, calm as he tried to make it appear, she saw cracks in its surface. "Did she assist in my birth?"

"Yes," he said truthfully. "Is that the reason you ask after her? Did your mother speak to you about her? You do understand that your mother wasn't the most reliable person."

"That has nothing to do with what I'm asking."

"I'm only saying that whatever it is your mother expressed to you concerning the midwife is not a reliable account of what the truth is," Werner explained. "You shouldn't take everything she said to heart."

"Then what is the truth?" she demanded, annoyed by how difficult it was to get one answer.

"Can you honestly say that this is a good time to be asking such a trivial question when you've just betrayed the Kou Empire?" he asked, aptly succeeding in changing the subject.

She wouldn't ask him anymore. She'd reserve the rest of her questions until after the conquest of Corrin was done.

He had a point as well. He jogged her pending priorities to the top of the list, reminding her to do what was more important first. If she had any hope of helping Nikias, she would have to thread the waters carefully around him. She'd need to make sure there wouldn't be any contact with the Kou Empire soldiers either. She wanted to avoid having to lose any people unnecessarily.

"I am sure Kouen will understand that I, like Nikias, will do anything for the sake of my country," she told him. "I was told that if I found an opportunity that I should seize it to do what I believed is right." Squaring her shoulders, loosening the tightness in them, and clearing her throat, she continued, her gaze fixed on a carved pillar in the wide, high ceiling room. "I don't have any experience in warfare or leadership, so I will be relying heavily on your expertise. May I?"

"If you think me useful, yes, I will do anything you ask, princess."

"What should I expect to happen to the remainder of my army in the joint camp?"

"Imprisoned," said Werner.

"Only imprisoned?"

"Yes."

"Good. Then we can proceed."

"Proceed?"

"To wait."

"For what?" asked Werner.

"For armies from Lorah, Nohr, and Hassah to come to our aid."


	20. (07) Silver Prince - Pt 3

**SILVER PRINCE** | REN KOUEN

[ **i **]

THERE IS A TRAITOR IN _OUR_ CAMP. SORRY.

Eight words. She wrote eight words in a piece of paper she passed on to him, as the declaration of her loyalty to him. And he was aware that she was trying to save Nikias from whatever dark cloud she found distorting his weak mind. She wanted a peaceful end to a war he wanted to finish with a single wave of his sword, but he had the patience to wait. The conflict would end one way or another, but it would end the same—in the Kou Empire's favor.

It annoyed him that she apologized. All she did was say "Sorry." She'd apologized for her own existence if she though it necessary, which reminded him that he'd need to ask her how she'd managed to defend herself against that magician's blast. He'd caught her midair, a little delayed as the magician had targeted him specifically and because he assumed she would extend her protection to his wife, but that hadn't occurred and at the last minute, in the split second of impact, he thought he'd seen the blast hit a wall. The resulting hit sent her off the bridge.

She was ordinary. He heard that once before. He never thought to ask if she was anything but because the world was filled with more ordinary folk than it was of magicians and Dungeon Capturers and the like. There were strange beasts and phenomenal powers and magi that exceeded all expectations. Out of the ordinary people existed, and as far concerned as he was, they naturally gravitated to one another—eventually.

Asta was an ordinary girl. A naive, annoyingly apologetic girl that would eternally seek the good in people—an emotion within them to latch onto until they were ready to give in to her stride.

And yet, he had his doubt and a nagging feeling that his marriage to Asta was not something he, himself, had entirely decided. It struck him as strange that his decision only met with the objection of his brothers and sisters, all assuring him that his marriage should be to someone of a more elevated status, not a nobody princess from a small island kingdom. He expected his father to question him about it, but he'd received instant approval. He believed that his father had seen the advantages of the island, but he suspected that might not have been the whole truth.

Kouen stared back at the message and covered it with his hand when Egil Vång entered his tent, his face covered in ash from hours of welding swords in front of a fire. He wore a cloak to hide his identity as he had ordered all Ionian soldiers to be secured in their prisoner's camp with those they captured from Corrin. He planned to draw Nikias out again to have him detained, but he'd been working out Asta's message, wondering if their traitor had gone with her or stayed with him.

"What is it?" he asked, watching the man catch his breath.

"We've been ambushed by the Hassahan army! They've destroyed two of our hidden ships!"

He had been waiting for the other kingdoms to take up arms. He was only shocked that Hassah had been the first to strike, being one of the furthest kingdoms from Corrin.

Kouen rose from his seat, taking his sword in one hand while crushing Asta's message in the other. He exited his tent a few steps after Egil when something crashed into the ground several feet in front of them. As the thick cloud of darkness slowly disappeared with the wind, Kouen caught a glimpse of gold against brown skin before a golden light engulfed the person standing before them. A laugh emerged from within the smoke.

Egil stepped back, away from a man sheathing a scimitar with the eight-pointed star carved on the metal. The dark-haired male had a gold ring in each finger and several necklaces hung from his neck. He dressed in dark shades, black trousers with a patterned shirt under a gold-trimmed kaftan.

He never thought he would encounter a Dungeon Capturer in the Byzen Cluster.

"Prince Melik," uttered Egil.

"I'm looking for the little princess." Melik grinned widely as his eyes swept from Egil's surprised expression to Kouen's calm countenance. "Or, Prince Kouen of the Kou Empire. Are you him?"

Kouen stared at him blankly. He kept his hand on the handle of his sword, ready to draw it if necessary. "And you are?"

"Prince of Hassah, Melik Buhari." He bowed with one knee pressed to the ground and held his sheathed scimitar in offering to him. "My sword and men are yours to command."

**SILVER PRINCE **| END


	21. (08) White Marble - Pt 1

**EIGHT**: White Marble

* * *

**The Byzen Cluster...**

_...on the vast waters of the Byzen Ocean._

It was agreed upon by the earliest kings and queens of the Byzen Kingdoms that their survival depended on their ability to work harmoniously. As such, during a winter equinox, they came up with three simple rules that they would hold sacred for the rest of their existence.

1\. Each kingdom will abide by the constraints of their responsibility.

2\. Each kingdom will aid in maintaining the balance of the Cluster, no matter its requirements.

3\. Each kingdom will never invade its neighbors.

Breaking any of the three rules meant breaking the sacred vow.

Legends claim the agreement was made after one of the Cluster's islands sank into the bottom of the ocean because of a breach in community among the kingdoms. Nobody Survived. A magician of old prophesied the destruction of the Byzen Kingdoms if the fighting among them did not cease and advised them to find the medium that would unite them.

Henceforth, the Byzen Cluster was described as functioning as a human body with each island being responsible for one important task.

* * *

**xl**: After next week I will only have finals to deal with and then sweet, sweet freedom will, hopefully, let me write more. I'm sorry for the lack of updates since the last update and if this chapter was a great follow up after so long, but I promise you the story will get better...hopefully.

I'll be explaining kingdom functions within the Cluster in the next few introductions.

I want to thank everyone that has taken the time to read and review: **Mika1617**, **yourhappyplace**, **De hearts 26**, **Hakuryuukun**, **Mymina**, and **Rimefeather**.

Enjoy.

**P.S.** I know there is a character named Nero in the Magi universe (and I'm usually better at looking out for things like this), but I found out too late...so we're just going to ignore that.


	22. (08) White Marble - Pt 2

**WHITE MARBLE** |

{ **i **}

Asta had returned to Nikias' hidden palace feeling shaken and unsure of herself as she had directed her army within its magically reinforced walls. Nikias' servants had treated her with the same respect extended to him and it had appeared to her to be the result of her betrayal against her husband. They had trusted her for her decision and it had worsened the chaotic feelings battling inside of her chest, but she had borne the weight and had swallowed the bile. She had thought that releasing Maeve from her cell would have offered her some clarity, but there had been nobody imprisoned in the dungeons.

She returned to her quarters and sank into the foot of the bed. She was spiraling. She was afraid of her fright. She lamented her inexperience. She cursed her pacifism. She was overwhelmed by the reality of how utterly useless she felt.

Asta's nights henceforth were haunted by a repetitive stream of frightening imagery—long corridors with glittering floors, the moving shells of armored men with their weapons pointed high and sharp, dissolving crowns made of white marble, and a jeweled chalice overflowing with black poison. She heard her father's mocking laughter in the dead of night and rose to find him standing, his body decaying reflected at her back in every mirror pointed at her by the servants assembled to serve her. She dreamt of talking shadows and towers stricken with lightning. She viewed chaos through the looking glass of her mind's eye and listened to the insults of her father in her memory.

The mornings were filled with animosity and obvious discontent. She moved to match Nikias' stride and searched for the boy she recalled hidden deep within the hard shell that he'd become, but had found it to be a disappointing pursuit that bore no fruit. Convincing herself of the failure was something she was adamant to avoid, but reality presented itself with the same stubbornness as she, matching her tenacity with frustrating inflexibility of its own.

She faced hostility from her father's army, who grew into soldiers in an environment that debased her ability to rule through subtle proclamations of the inferiority of her mind and self. Only the Castle Guard displayed any loyalty towards her, though there were exceptions within the castle's army as well. She relied on Werner's unquestioned leadership to rally the troops mingling with Nikias', though she knew ruling through him did her no favors, she had not been able to rectify her mistake. She acknowledged that she needed guidance and that her cousin was the only one that could provide it for her.

Asta steeled herself every new morning and reminded herself to stay strong—chanted it like a sacred script. She was tired of her own naivety and weakness, knowing that those were everyone's first choice of weapon to use against her. Nevertheless, it did comfort her to be surrounded by familiar faces. There were people among them that she trusted and that made her feel stronger.

"…but how does one become an unquestioned leader?" asked Asta aloud. The thoughts chased her and caused her unrelenting self-doubt, but upon realizing that she allowed the question to slip, she grew embarrassed in Aghi's presence.

"Some people are simply born with it, I guess," said Aghi, nonplussed.

She visited him on a daily basis to ensure his swift recovery, but mostly because she needed a friend. She wasn't outwardly seeking comfort in the question's respect, rather she wanted the company and the peace it offered her troubled mind.

"What makes a leader?"

"Charisma?"

"What is so charismatic about Kouen?"

"Are you doing that thing again where you spout a lot of hateful things about your current crush in order to get people off your trail?"

Asta frowned. "No! I'm not doing that thing!"

Aghi leaned forward to the edge of his narrow bed, closer to where she was seated. The room lent to her soldiers was long and lacking in privacy for the large number of soldiers expected to share utilities. The quarters were smaller than the barracks they were used to inhabiting in Ione. Accommodations were shared, but the most soldiers within one sleeping quarter were four and they were usually foot soldiers. Men and women of rank were given their own living quarters (and even then, most of them opted to live with their own families).

"But you're not denying it?" he asked.

"Denying what?"

"That you do like him."

"I _don't_ like him."

"Right, right," said Aghi, leaning back into his pillow. "You would be stalking him about now, wouldn't you?"

"I was being serious," complained Asta. "How am I supposed to lead an entire army—one that hates me—against my own husband? I'm no leader. I don't know what I'm doing and I'm grateful to Werner's presence, but I'm a princess. I'm the heir of the Ionian throne. I am the heir of a military country. I should be a leader. I should know how to lead an army, but I don't know what I am supposed to do."

"You are overthinking this."

"I'm not. They hate me. My father made sure of that."

"Yeah, they do, but that doesn't necessarily mean they won't listen to you. The law of the land is that if you want to lead an army, you have to have the respect of every soldier in it. And even if you don't have that yet, you have your title and that counts for something."

Asta turned her back to him as she slid back to sit next to him. Aghi made room for her to lean into the pillow with him.

"I just don't know what I'm doing and it scares me."

Aghi pressed his arm against hers. "It is a reasonable fear. You've just made an enemy of one of the most powerful men in the world and you're supposed to be his wife. If you weren't the least bit scared, well, that would put you above his level…and that'd be terrifying. You know, that should be the next goal you should aspire to—more terrifying than Prince Kouen of the Kou Empire."

"I could never be that frightening."

"Don't worry, we'll practice."

She smiled.

"You don't need to be anyone but yourself," said Aghi. "You have your own way of inspiring people and that will go a long way, so whatever it is that you're doing, don't give up. You have me. You have Werner and having Werner is like having the world. Everyone in the army loves him like everyone outside of it loves you. We all have our strengths in this conflict. And sure, you're going to have to rely on the Castle Guard soldiers here more than the military and on Werner, but that's just a start. It also doesn't mean that you don't know what you're doing. Knowing that you had to rely on Werner to make sure the army listened to you is a smart choice. It means you know how to move your pieces. Keep that up and I'm sure you'll find your way."

Asta rested her head against his shoulder, warmed by his encouragement. "Thank you."

"Now, I'm going to have to ask you for a favor," started Aghi.

"What is it?"

"Would you mind helping me get to the bath?"

"Oh, no, let's go." Asta left the bed and ran around to the other side to help him get out.

* * *

_There were floral and fruit arrangements at each table. Another wave of festivities awaited them and only a few trials remained for their champions. Her father spent a lot of time having private discussions with Nikias' mother and curiosity eventually got the best of Asta. After repeated affirmations that they were talking about a political marriage between her and Nikias, she wanted to know what the truth was. _

_Asta left the quiet sanctuary that was the physician's tower and pursued a lead to her father's private office up in the western tower. She would've gone further had it not been for Bengt standing guard outside. Seeing him made her angry because she knew he was responsible for what happened to Aghi and Vilhelm. _

_"Are you lost?" he asked snidely._

_"You told father about Aghi and Vilhelm, didn't you?" she accused. _

_"They disobeyed orders and needed to be punished."_

_It bothered her that he didn't look the least bit remorseful._

_"They could've been killed."_

_"Perhaps next time, you should not ask them to go against their orders in that manner again," he told her. "You should never forget that they, like you, are human beings, not your play things. They have their limits, same as you. You are doing them no favors with your foolish, childish behavior."_

_"I've never treated them like that!" she defended. "I love them! They're my family!"_

_Bengt burst out laughing. "Your family? Those lowly mutts—"_

_Asta kicked him as hard as she could in the shin. He doubled over from the pain, cursing her name. He made a swipe at her, but she jumped back, away from him._

_"Slimy Bengt! Slimy Bengt!" she shouted annoyingly. "Slimy Bengt! Slimy Bengt!"_

_"You stupid cursed child!"_

_She stuck her tongue out at him. "Papa!" she cried. "Papa! Papa! Papa!"_

_She shouted for her father and convinced herself into tears until he burst out of the tower to see what the commotion was about. He looked at Bengt and then at her._

_"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded._

_"Bengt hit me!"_

_"I did no such thing—"_

_Asta cried inconsolably and felt her father's hands slip under her arms. He hoisted her up into his arms and soothed her as he glared at the querulous Bengt, prostrated before him in a plea for mercy._

_"She lies—"_

_"If I see you anywhere near the princess again, I will have you executed," threatened Hákon._

_Asta stared down at Bengt smugly as her father carried her inside his office with Theodora, the Queen of Corrin. She stared at Nikias' mother captivated by her delicate beauty. She drank tea very elegantly, holding the cup carefully in her dainty fingers. In fact, all of her movements were regal. Her face was small and symmetrical, her nose straight. Her eyelashes were pale and her eyes were a light, mesmerizing blue. Her lips were full and a soft pink color._

_"It is fortunate that you could be here," said the queen, looking at her seated behind her father's desk. "I see you and my Nikias have been getting along well."_

_"I like Nikias!" she declared. "He's very nice!"_

_She smiled saccharinely. "I thought you might like him. He is quite fond of you as well."_

_Hákon stepped behind Asta's chair and placed his hand atop her head, patting her gently. "A sweet princess for a kind prince, I do believe these two will do well together."_

_"I have no doubt they will," said the queen. "And her mother will be fine with this? I would like to speak with her if that's possible."_

_"Unfortunately, my queen is not yet up for visits."_

_"That's regrettable."_

_The conversation went on for much longer than she anticipated and none of it was that interesting to Asta, so she left sometime in the middle of it. _

_Outside, Asta waited for Theodora to leave the tower on her own to intercept her. She took her by the hand, surprising her, and said, "I can take you to see mama."_

_"Oh?"_

_"We'll just have to keep it a secret from papa."_

_The queen smiled. "Of course."_

_There were guards stationed outside of the eastern tower, but they were friends of hers that promised to turn a blind eye. She took the Corrinean queen up the stairs into her mother's bedroom._

_Ingrid was seated on the carpeted floor with her back to the door when Asta sprung on her, hugging her from behind. Her mother greeted her with several kisses making her giggle._

_"You don't look very sick."_

_Ingrid turned around to face the queen. Her eyes went wide. "Theodora?"_

_"She said she wanted to talk to you!" said Asta excitedly._

_Ingrid took her by the arm. "I understand that dear, but your father—"_

_"Little Asta said we should keep it a secret," said Theodora, smiling brilliantly. "So why don't we? Just between us three."_

_Asta had never seen her mother so tense in front of anyone other than her father. As she sank into the nearest seat, she wondered, watching her mother, if she did the right thing in bringing Theodora into her mother's tower._

_The Corrinean queen sat in a plush armchair after surveying her options with a hint of disdain. She pulled the skirts of her silvery dress aside to reveal her glass heels and crossed her legs at her ankles, leaning forward so the diamonds clinging to her upper torso moved forward clinking. She spoke, "Our kingdoms are to be united in the future."_

_Ingrid inelegantly scrambled to stand behind Asta's seat, holding on to the back of it with surprising grip. "W-What?"_

_Theodora clicked her tongue unimpressed with her mother's lack of knowledge on the subject and she leaned to the side, propping an elbow on the chair's cushioned arm. "How far you have fallen Ingrid?" she taunted. "Your father would be disappointed."_

_"D-Do not speak of my father," said Ingrid, shaky. As Asta looked up to her mother's nervous countenance, her mother looked down, her eyebrows knitted in concern. "Asta, please go upstairs. I need to speak to T-Theodora alone."_

_"But mama—"_

_"Asta, please," she said firmly._

_Asta obliged her mother's request and headed upstairs to her bedroom, or rather, she pretended to obey her. She stomped her way up the short staircase and opened the door to the bedroom noisily before skulking back down to press her ear against the cold wooden door to eavesdrop. Her heart was beating so fast she felt it pounding in her head._

_"You honestly thought you could return home and rule this country alongside a man that loved and supported you, didn't you?" asked Theodora. "Those were foolish dreams. In fact, you were better off seducing Kyros."_

_"It was never my intention to—"_

_"Let us not speak of the past," interrupted Theodora, "after all, I am only here to speak to you of our future. If our countries will be united with the marriage of our children. As unfortunate as it is that I will no longer be able to ignore your existence as the result of this union, it would be idiotic of Corrin not to agree to this proposal. You are the sword, we are the shield."_

_"What did Hákon promise you in exchange of your son?" asked Ingrid tremulously._

_"Is it not enough that he offered us the alliance itself? Do you find that to be a cheap reward?"_

_"If you love your children and your country, you will reconsider this."_

_"Do you think your daughter is too good for my son?"_

_"T-That wasn't what I was s-saying—"_

_"T-That wasn't what I was s-saying," mocked Theodora. "Enough of your bullshit, Ingrid. What are you playing? What are you trying to accomplish pretending you're too ill to participate? You don't look sick."_

_Something in the other room crashed, breaking to pieces on the floor, and started Asta. She worried for her mother._

_"Or is it that you've finally gone insane?" asked Theodora, laughing._

_"I'm not insane," said Ingrid, faltering._

_"You definitely look a little worse for wear, your eyes are bloodshot, your voice is tremulous, and you haven't stopped shaking." The laughter never left Theodora's tone of voice and it upset Asta. A moment ago, Asta thought of her as being so beautiful and delicate, as if she could do no wrong, but she was nasty, rotten to the core because of the way she was talking to her mother. "Can you see ghosts now like that old hag you spoke so fondly of? Have you been hanging out with her lately?"_

_"Y-You s-shouldn't be—"_

_"Should I be wary?" asked Theodora. "Seeing you in this sorry state worries me. If you have gone and lost your mind, when will it come time for your daughter to lose hers? My son doesn't deserve to be married to a lunatic."_

_"Don't!"_

_"Don't what?"_

_"Asta—she's special. She's not like me. She won't be like me. She's special."_

_Theodora chortled. "Special? There is nothing remotely special about that girl!"_

_"No, there is! She's magic! She'll save us—"_

_Asta heard a loud _thwack _followed by a _thud_ and she reached for the handle of the door. She burst into the room to see Theodora standing over Ingrid, who was on the ground holding her cheek. The Corrinean queen's hand was up at an angle that looked as though she had struck her mother to the ground._

_She ran to her mother's side and saw her tears drip from her eyes onto the ground. "I don't want Corrin to suffer what Ione has suffered," said Ingrid, sucking in a shaky breath. "I ask that if you love your son, you will not agree to an alliance." Ingrid placed a hand over one of Asta's and looked up at the furious Theodora. "She may not seem like much, but she's my daughter. I can only call her my own and she's special, like all children."_

_Theodora's face twisted in disgust. "You're pathetic, Ingrid."_

_The foreign queen stormed out of the tower swiftly. Ingrid shrunk, shuddering with fear, and Asta held her, unable to think of any other way to help her tremors stop._

_"I'm sorry for bringing her, mama, I'm sorry."_

_Asta pleaded with her mother until there were tears streaming down her face. Ingrid faced her and shook her head as she took Asta's face in her hands._

_"Don't be sad, sweet princess, you did nothing—"_

_A rush of footsteps disturbed the moment and not a second after Bengt burst into the room, infuriated by the sight before him. "What is the meaning of this?"_

_Ingrid tried to push Asta behind her, but Bengt made a beeline for Asta and struck her mother with the back of his hand. Asta shoved him as hard as she could, feeling an odd strength in her hands, and he hit the wall across the room, surprising her. Bengt managed to stay on his feet, his beady eyes wide, but his tome was on the floor._

_She felt odd suddenly, looking at Bengt staring back at her, as if she were seeing the scene unfold outside of her body. _

_"You will fall."_

_The words left her lips, but she didn't remember speaking them. She didn't even feel them leave her lips._

_"GUARDS!" shouted Bengt. He looked afraid._

_Asta was punished for seeing her mother because she made a big deal out of leaving the tower. She unintentionally attracted the attention of many of their royal guests with all the shouting and screaming she was doing. She saw the solemn expressions on Nikias' face and Melik, who made a move towards her, but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder; his brother Baron shook his head when Melik turned to him. It shamed her to be seen, but only after the anger had subsided._

_She wouldn't be allowed to see her mother again. Her father made that clear to her when he placed the Castle Guard's Commander Ivor and his son on guard duty._

{ **ii** }

Asta overheard a hum of gossip sweep the soldier's barracks that morning. In the dim light of the corridors, they gathered to whisper of spies seeing ships bearing the Hassahan army's crest, a coiled black serpent, and it felt as if she had waited forever for such news to reach her. Hassah, Nohr, and Lorah would not sit idle and wait until their own countries came under fire, especially after her father's conquest of Baryon and the current battle in Corrin. With one kingdom fallen and another underway, they had no time to waste.

This was her opportunity to do something. After all, it was not unlike the islands of the Byzen Cluster to send out an army without a royal leading the ranks. She expected to see Melik or Baron, the eldest of the Hassahan princes, Louise, the princess of Lorah, and Ilya the Dark Knight of Nohr, its crown prince, come to Corrin's aid. It pained her that she would resort to this sort of strategy, but she imagined capturing royalty was a perfect way of opening communications with defensive and aggressive countries. Perhaps, if Kouen could speak to them and she could be there to make certain that things wouldn't devolve into war again; they could find a happy medium.

"It must sound insane to think there is a happy medium to conquest," said Asta, staring out the window into the mountainous surroundings of the castle. The clouds appeared so close to the touch and offered the ranges a misty, ethereal glow.

"Is that what you seek in betraying the Kou Empire?" asked Werner, moving to stand beside her.

"Do you think it stupid of me to betray them?"

"I do not think it is very smart to make an enemy of your husband."

"I agree," she admitted, "but he won't hurt me and I won't hurt him."

"I think that will be impossible not to do in this situation. The Kou Empire will not stop trying to conquer the Byzen Cluster. It is an inevitability that it will fall no matter how much war is waged. Your husband is a warrior. The battlefield is second nature to him. This is insanity."

Asta placed a hand on his shoulder. "I am happy to have someone as experienced as you guiding me."

Werner frowned. "I swear I'm flattered by your belief in me, princess, but you're insane."

"I promise it will all work out."

Or at least she hoped it would.

Nikias appeared at the end of the hall and made a gesture for them to follow him. They walked to meet him and he led them into a wide room where Agnes lounged on a couch full of pillows, smiling at her when she entered. There were matters to discuss concerning plans to overtake the Kou Empire army that her husband commanded, though after relaying the information, Nikias stressed his disappointment in her inability to convince her husband to concede to his wishes.

"You said it yourself, he does not care for me," she told him, defensive. She felt the stung of the words a little deeper knowing that she liked him and he would not. She allowed her youth and naivety to show upon realizing that and it shamed her. She felt guilty about her traitorous heart, even if it was a crush. The timing was all off.

"It was disappointing to learn that you are not quite as charming as the stories make you out to be," said Nikias. "No matter, with a person like Werner Tjäder at your command, you won't need charm."

"You cannot deny that quite so clearly yourself, your highness," said Werner, drawing a smile from the prince.

It was a wondrous contrast how Nikias Tassos grew into the man before her from the boy she met at the Byzen Festival so long ago. She blamed her father and the atrocities he committed against the royal family of Corrin. Every encounter she had with Nikias brought on these thoughts. It was so baffling to her. She couldn't claim that she knew him all of her life and that the change was radical because it had been almost ten years since the festival. They were young. Back then, they were different people than the ones standing face to face now.

"Of course not," said Nikias, surprising her. "After all, ten years ago, the young Ionian princess nearly stole my heart. Had it been mine to give it would have been yours."

Asta's traitorous face heated with embarrassment and Nikias laughed, that boyish laugh of his that made her recall the boy from her youth. The one who said that he pitied her when he saw the horrid treatment she faced at the hands of her own soldiers until he realized that she had people willing to forfeit their lives for her and that he was envious of that precious gift.

Agnes laughed from her seat. Most likely, it had been at her reaction to the prince's words, which only humiliated her further.

"There is someone here that wants to see you, Asta," said Nikias, leading them through a different door in the room. "He will not cooperate with us otherwise." He halted, turning over his shoulder. "Will you be coming Agnes?"

"Only if you wish it my prince," she answered. "I would rather remain here if it is not your will."

"You will not be needed."

"Thank you."

Nikias offered Asta his arm for her to take and after receiving a quizzical look for her delayed reaction, she wrapped her arm around his, allowing him to lead her forward, down a long sparkling corridor full of marble statues. It felt familiar despite her never being in this part of the castle before, but she ignored the strangeness filing the pit of her stomach and admired the artwork displayed along the path.

He took them to the end of the corridor where the row of evenly spaced statues ended and a large pair of double doors sat.

Nikias pulled away from her to push open the doors, entering first. "As you requested, I've brought Asta."

Asta glimpsed at Werner before following Nikias inside. She stopped abruptly upon seeing Baron, the Second Prince of Hassah. He wore a scimitar sheathed at his hip and numerous thin gold bracelets over his right wrist. He approached her, surprising her by going down on one knee before her while drawing his blade. He held it sideways, the sharp end facing his direction, and presented it to her as he bowed his head low.

"I, Baron Buhari, Second Prince of Hassah, pledge my life and sword to you, Queen Asta of Ione," he vowed. "Hassah is at your behest, our swords are yours to command."

She looked at Nikias, who appeared equally shocked, and Werner briefly before she returned her gaze to the bowing prince. She expected Hassah to pledge to Nikias, not her. She would've thought that it would've been difficult to convince the other countries to back her. This development astonished her.

He called her queen and it felt so foreign to her.

"Why?"

"Our queen wishes to leave the fate of Hassah in your hands."

"I brought strife into the Byzen Cluster with my marriage."

"_I trust the eye that sees the path true_," said Baron, lifting his eyes to her. "The people of Hassah believe in you."

Nikias scoffed.

She crouched down before Baron, placing her hand atop his blade and smiled solemnly. She was elated by the pledge of loyalty. It made her feel warm when she started to feel the weight of the burden she had decided to undertake.

"Thank you."

"Are you pleased enough to join our ranks and reveal your cards now?" asked Nikias.

Baron lowered his blade and helped Asta back on her feet as he did. He sheathed his blade, nodding. "I supposed I should relay my information to you now that Asta is also present." He looked to Werner and offered him a small smile. "It is good to see you present, Werner Tjäder."

"It is an honor, Prince Baron," said Werner with a bow of his head.

"I vow the true honor is mine, you are admired by many in our ranks."

"You can babble later, you said this was important," interjected Nikias.

"It is."

"Then what is it?"

"My brother has infiltrated Prince Kouen's camp," he revealed, looking to Asta. "He is at your disposal as well."

Asta breathed in, deeper than she thought, and nodded, praying that whichever of his many brothers it was would be remain safe. She caught Nikias staring at her with a strange smile and she reached out to touch the side of Baron's arm, drawing his attention fully. He stared down at her, dark eyes full of honesty and keen perception. He knew. She understood that deep down inside, he could see right through her, the same as everyone. She was obvious. She was upset by the idea that Nikias was more than aware of her betrayal and that made her fear for the life of her army, for the life of Kouen's, for Kouen, and now for the Buhari brothers.

If she could be anyone, anyone in the world…she would be fearless and daring.

A cold hand fell atop her shoulder and a cool breeze hit her ear. She froze up. "_What a pathetic manner of thinking?"_

Asta noticed Baron staring at her and lowered her gaze; the cold hand never left her shoulder.

Nikias, Baron, Werner, Agnes, and Asta gathered around in a room with high ceilings later in the day with Aesop, the chief commander of his army. Aesop was a senior officer, old and wrinkled but more sturdily built than any man she had ever seen. His hair was cut short, close to the scalp, and he sported gray stubble along his strong jaw. His eyes were a gray shade with a sprinkle of blue that she found appealing upon their initial introduction and his voice was a deep baritone.

There were beautiful arches decorating the room, the floor was pristine white, and the table where they sat was made of study wood. Their seats were padded for comfort but made of the same material as the long rectangular table. Seating showed a clear divide between them with Nikias at one end and Asta at the other. To Nikias' right, Agnes sat with her pink hair braided down her back, there were sparkling crystals in it, and to his left Aesop, seeming sturdy as an oak tree. Werner sat to her left, dark circles around his eyes, and Baron to her right, wearing a wine-red kaftan with black trim and a gold necklace with a black diamond hanging from the end of it.

"If there are two men infiltrated in the enemy's camp, then our time to act is now," claimed Aesop, slamming his fist down on the table. His goblet of wine clattered, but did not tip over. "Allow them to create an opening for us, rally as many soldiers as they can against Prince Kouen and kill him once and for all."

Asta shifted unconsciously.

"I do not disagree that now would be the perfect opportunity for an attack, but we cannot forget that Prince Kouen is a Dungeon Capturer," reminded Agnes. "He possesses two very powerful metal vessels. If we do not plan accordingly, we will be overwhelmed by his army."

"It is unlikely the prince will find reason to leave his throne to fight us," argued Aesop. "He has so far only given his army orders and remained in the back watching them fight his battles."

"You cannot find offense in his militarism," said Baron. "What he does is show respect for the men in his army by relying on them." Despite the annoyed look he received from Aesop, he continued, "Besides, a well-thought out plan is needed. That is the reason for this gathering. For the moment, however, we continue to use our insiders for information concerning the Kou Empire's army."

"We should take Prince Baron's appearance as well," added Asta. "How long until Lorah and Nohr send support to the Corrinean cause?"

"Yes, but do not think because Hassah pledged its loyalty to you the others will as well," said Nikias cruelly. "You are not the sort of princess one expects to have come out of Ione."

"She may not meet your high expectations," started Werner, "but do remember that she is present because you need her."

"How insolent," said Agnes with a smile. "Especially for you, Werner the Kind."

Asta saw Werner's hand twitch and she covered it with hers, holding it tight.

Nikias' silvery eyebrows knitted with annoyance. "And yet, she failed."

"I declared war on my husband, I took back my army," argued Asta. "I did it trusting that you could help me retake my own country."

"What good is any of that? Your husband doesn't care about you and your army doesn't respect you," stated Nikias. "You are sitting in that chair because you're a princess, so I expect your contributions, henceforth, to be minimal."

She planned to remain silent, but in the split second that she had made that decision, she heard the start of Baron and Werner's protests, and felt the next words leave her mouth. It was a reflex.

"My contributions will not be minimal as they never have been. Taking back your kingdom requires my presence. You could hide in this castle all you want protected by as many magicians and men as your country could muster, but it made no difference that if Kouen wanted to capture you, he would have done it with ease. To prevent that, you sent your spies, had that traitor pass on information that secured my location for you so that you could capture me." She saw Nikias' relaxed form turn tense as he shifted in his chair. "I am valuable. I'm not a warrior and not everyone respects my authority in the army, but I am valuable. You are using me as a shield—"

Nikias scoffed. "You think so highly—"

"I do," she stated. "I do think very highly of myself if it is me that you want to speak of. I am Prince Kouen's wife and that may be a meaningless statement to you, but it carries a significant amount of weight, whether you want to acknowledge it or not. I have been his wife for long enough, so you should understand that despite caring very little about me, he would not endanger my life. He chose me to be the mother to his children'—she turned her attention to Agnes, whose violet eyes glittered with interest—"and this was likely your idea—that the possibility that I could be carrying his child would take precedence in his mind and he wouldn't take up arms when it came time to negotiate. He didn't. So yes, you can continue reminding me that I failed in convincing him to lay his weapons down and failed to stop the war, but I betrayed him. I did it for your sake, for this country, for your people, for your sisters, and your dead. I don't have the respect of the Ionian army, but Werner does and he serves me. I have the Royal Guard and you can expect them to be the most powerful soldiers in the army. I have the support of Hassah and its princes. You cannot say that my contributions need to be small because you are using me as a shield. I have no doubt in my mind that Kouen could easily pinpoint the location of the castle and destroy it, but I am too important to lose, so he won't."

Asta took a breath, hyperaware of everyone's eyes on her. Her heart was pounding furiously in her chest, her palms were sweating, and her chest was rising and falling quite dramatically. Anger and anxiety mingled and molded into one frightening emotion inside that that coursed like adrenaline through her. She didn't know how much of what she said she believed, particularly about Kouen, but she didn't care. She needed to sell her importance because she was, despite how many times she was reminded that she wasn't. She wasn't just someone with a title. She was more than that. Kouen believed in her back in their camp when he trusted her with the tunnel mission. She asked him to believe in her when she slipped him that information on the traitor. They would be acting against each other, carrying with them different beliefs to reach a resolution that would suit everyone. She would make sure of it.

She worried. She visibly shook, inwardly, she was turning to putty, but she kept up her strong front. She needed to become better at putting up airs.

"He needs to watch over me for the sake of his legacy and you can argue with me all you want about there being other women out there he could marry once I'm dead, but he chose me," she continued, leaving them no opportunity to interrupt, though it seemed as if Nikias or Agnes were close to doing so. "Perhaps it is too difficult for you to admit it, but truly, what happens to your life from here on out is here"—she held her hand out in Nikias' direction and pointed to the center of her palm—"in my hand. Whether we win or lose, I will have a place. It doesn't matter how much you contribute to the cause, if we emerged victorious people will remember my betrayal as being the cause of it. If we lose, I will return to the Kou Empire and will wipe my hands clean of it all.

She pushed her seat back noisily and got up, concluding, "Until you come here to discuss our next move, rather than my shortcomings, you can count my army and allies out of your current plans."

Werner and Baron followed her lead as she stormed out of the room. Baron left laughing boisterously and Werner looked at her brimming with pride. She needed to breathe the fresh air because she felt inclined to run back and apologize for saying all of those things to Nikias.

"Asta!"

Asta halted down the middle of the corridor after hearing Nikias' shout. She turned, looking past Werner and Baron, who turned serious as if on cue, at the Silver Prince, fuming with his hands fisted at his side.

"What do you want?" he demanded.

And she understood that she had won.

She walked back to him, her heart thumping wildly. "I am not your enemy. I am your friend. I want to help you, so let me help you."

He looked at her with a hint of indecision before his features hardened, eyebrows drawn tight. "I don't trust you."

"I understand."

"But I cannot deny the fact that I need you if I hope to retake my kingdom."

She expelled the breath she held in, the tension in her shoulders relaxing. "I will do all that I can for you to do so. You don't have to trust me; you only have to let me help you."

It pained her knowing that she would have to betray him in the end as she left his side, joined by Werner and Baron.

* * *

_Asta skulked around the castle, purposely avoiding the eastern tower aware of the strong opposition stationed there. The next event in the Byzen Festival was said to be quite a spectacle, but as part of her punishment, she wasn't invited to go. Instead, she had sulked and watched everyone leave to the Öman Province by the coast. As it started to darken, she swore she heard fireworks and went downstairs to the doctor's tower to rant about it to Aghi and Vilhelm until the castle's physician advised her to let them rest. She ran upstairs where she roamed some more until someone complained about her wandering and Brita appeared before her._

_Upon seeing Brita, Asta ran off. She remembered all of the mean things that she said about everyone only being friends with her because they were being paid and it hurt her heart to think about all of her friends in that manner. She heard the sound of Brita's quick footsteps pursuing her._

_"Princess!" she called repeatedly. "Princess, please!"_

_Asta didn't stop until Brita found a way to hurry on ahead of her to intercept her. She forced her to halt and Asta looked up at her, wide-eyed and afraid of what could come next. Brita sank down to her knees and bowed her head._

_"I'm terribly sorry about the horrible things I said," she blurted. "It was cruel of me! I never wanted to be cruel to you princess."_

_She heard her sniffle. When Brita lifted her head, she could see the tears springing up in her eyes. Her heart melted. Asta went straight in for a hug and forgave her. Her mother often said that when people were angry or upset that they could say cruel things that they didn't mean. She believed that was the case with Brita._

_Brita offered to take her upstairs to play and she kept her entertained until she managed to fall asleep._

_Asta woke up in the middle of the night and groggily called for Aghi in the hopes that he'd tell her a story of one of his many adventures, forgetting that he was still in the physician's care. She kicked off her blankets and left her bed, hearing the creak of the floorboards underneath her slight weight as she made a beeline for the door. She opened it carefully, expecting to see the guards on duty, but instead, the castle was silent and cold. She stepped out, advancing towards the wall on the opposite side to inspect the white specks on it and felt an icy breeze hit her freckled cheeks. She touched the wall when she heard a distant sound—a voice calling loud, pleading._

_"Help!"_

_She chased the wounded sound unaware of the deteriorated state of her surroundings. There were windows missing that allowed the howling winds to enter the halls, holes in the ceilings, broken doors, missing wooden boards on the ground, there were statues of men broken in odd places, and vines springing from the floor to grow around the balustrades and railings of the staircases._

_Asta halted a few feet away from the fallen person at the end of the hall. They were lying face down in a puddle of black mud beside an oak tree whose green limbs half hid a portrait of her father. She finally looked around her and stumbled back until she hit the wall, shoulder first. She slumped down to the floors overcome by the sudden realization of the unfamiliar corridor._

_"Princess."_

_Slowly, she turned her head in the direction of the voice. It was a woman's that made her ears ring with a sense of familiarity that she couldn't quite place. Her skin crawled, prickled with ice, as her eyes met the wide, horrified eyes of the agonizing woman. Her face was disfigured by a deep gash that made Asta want to scream, but she was too scared to make a sound. She was too frightened to move or look away._

_"Listen."_

_She shut her eyes tightly. She could do that much at least._

_"Look!" She didn't. "Look!" She managed to shake her head. "LOOK!"_

_She peeled open her eyes and watched the fallen woman crawl towards her at an alarming pace, bones snapping and skin falling apart in chunks revealing muscle tissue and bone. She seized up, pushing herself so far back that she wished she could have fallen through the wall to disappear._

_Long, bony fingers grasped her upper arms. Scared tears sprung up in her eyes._

_"Stop him," pleaded he woman. "Stop him before he kills me."_

_The woman's grip tightened and she turned to ash._

_Asta jerked awake from the dream and let out a loud frightened cry that prompted her guards to storm inside. The two women scanned her room before approaching her bed, taking note of her tears._

_"What happened, princess?" one woman asked._

_In one long stream of emotional babble, she spilled every detail of her nightmare to them, though she doubted they were able to understand half of what she said. Nevertheless, she received their comfort. The two put their minds together to tell her a few jokes to lighten up her mood and left once she was so full of laughter that they were able to promise good dreams. She slept the rest of the night dreamlessly._

_Hákon woke her that following morning. He sat on the side of her bed and called out to her gently until she opened her eyes to face him. "If you behave, and you promise to behave, I will allow you to attend the last of the Byzen Festival's celebrations."_

_"Really?"_

_"You have to stop fighting with Chamberlain Bengt."_

_"But he was the one that tried to push me! He was mean to my mom!"_

_"He will be punished for his actions, but for the moment we need him on our side, understand?" said Hákon. "If all goes well, I'll be done with negotiations with Corrin."_

_"But I don't want to be married to Nikias! I'm too young!"_

_"You are too young, I agree, but eventually, you will grow older and when you are you will be doing your duty for your country by uniting Ione with Corrin. It is important that you do this, Asta."_

_She frowned. "But I don't get it."_

_"It would do you well to focus more on your studies than playing games with the Castle Guard."_

_"But everyone just yells at me when I get something wrong!"_

_"Princesses should be perfect. You should aspire to it." He gently patted her head and stood up. "I'll ask Brita to get you ready for today."_

_Hákon exited. _

_Brita arrived ten minutes later with a blue dress to fit her into and talked her through the plans for that day's festivities. There would be a popularity contest in the Strand Province._

_"A popularity contest?" questioned Asta._

_"That is what Cilla Strand wanted," said Brita, "but I'm sure that it's just a glorified game and her father's allowing her to do as she pleases."_

_She accepted that response and got dressed with Brita's help. When Brita started to style her hair, she started to ponder the meaning of a marriage to Nikias._

_"Dad wants me to marry Nikias Tassos," she said aloud._

_"Isn't that wonderful?" asked Brita. "You both seem to be getting along."_

_"But I just want to be his friend," she admitted. "And mama doesn't approve either."_

_Brita let Asta's hair fall from her hands. "Did you speak to your mother about this? Is that why you were asked to stay behind yesterday?"_

_"I took Queen Theodora to see her and my mother told her not to marry Nikias to me because she'd regret it."_

_Brita gathered up Asta's hair. "Well, it is probable that your mother wasn't feeling well and that she didn't know what she was saying."_

_She didn't like it when people said such things about her mother. She decided to drop the subject, but Brita continued to probe her for answers. She found ways to change the conversation until Brita was done fixing her hair. _

_Asta ran out of the room to search for her father and ask him about when they were going to leave as Brita had not been given a time. She took a detour to the eastern tower and skulked around, but it was heavily guarded. One of the guards caught her staring at them and she skittered away. She took the service stairs down to the ground level and as she approached the end of the staircase, she heard Theodora's familiar voice._

_"Think of your country!"_

_She slowed her steps, descending quietly until Theodora and Nikias came into view. Nikias looked so small before his mother's overbearing presence. She saw that his cheek was red and his sparkling circlet was on at an angle. She believed that he had been struck and she felt her stomach sink._

_"I don't think we—"_

_"On all accounts, your country comes first!"_

_"But Asta is my—"_

_"That girl is not normal! I think the Byzen Cluster has a right to know!"_

_"You can't do that," pleaded Nikias. "You shouldn't say cruel things—"_

_Theodora grabbed Nikias by the hair, yanking his head so far back that his crown fell. A piece of it chipped. Asta saw it as she prang down the rest of the stairs to push herself between them forcing the queen to release her recoiling son. She shouldn't have interfered, but she couldn't stand the pained look on his face. The fright in his eyes made her want to make him stop hurting._

_"Stop it!" she shouted._

_Nikias stumbled backward, falling when he was unable to maintain himself upright._

_"You need to stay out of things that do not concern you, little girl!" snapped Theodora. "Go back to your mother!"_

_"Stop hurting him!" she yelled, standing firm between the two. _

_"Asta, you don't have to—"_

_"How low you have stooped, Nikias, as soft as your cowardly father, allowing a little girl to protect you…from me, from your mother."_

_"Stop!" demanded Asta. She didn't have to understand the circumstances to know that his mother's words were cruel. "You have to stop hurting him! He's your son! You can't hurt your—"_

_She felt the sting of Theodora's hand as it slapped her across the face. The force of it brought tears to her eyes._

_"Mother!" shouted Nikias._

_Asta felt his hands on her shoulders, drawing her back, away from his furious mother._

_"Do not intervene in our affairs you annoying girl!"_

_"Mother!"_

_"Stop!" continued Asta, turning back to her, feeling angry and hurt all at the same time. "You shouldn't hurt Nikias. You shouldn't hurt him."_

_"He is a man—"_

_"It doesn't matter! It doesn't matter! He's my friend! I don't want you to hurt him! Please, don't hurt him! I'm asking you please!"_

_Theodora let out a furious yell and stormed away._

_"I'm sorry," said Nikias._

_Asta was shedding tears when she turned to look at him. He couldn't look at her, or rather, he wouldn't. "Are you okay?"_

_"Yeah, my mother, she tends to—she overreacts, it's not her fault," he explained quickly. "She's been under a lot of stress lately. She told me about seeing your mother and about what she said. She said we shouldn't get married and she's angry about it. I don't know why. I just—I just heard her saying that she wanted to tell everyone that you were weird."_

_"Weird?"_

_"Chamberlain Bengt told her that you're cursed. I think she's just afraid. I told her that there's nothing wrong with you, that you're normal."_

_"He said I was cursed?" she asked, recalling her dream vividly. "But why? Why would I be cursed?"_

_"I don't believe it. You're not. I'm sorry about her. I'm sorry that she hit you. I'm sorry that I couldn't protect you from her." He bit down on his lower lip and the Silver Prince made her heart skip a beat. "I wish I could have shielded you from her."_

_Asta took one of his hands into both of hers. "It's okay! You don't have to apologize! She doesn't hit hard at all." She didn't believe that herself, not even for a moment, but she didn't care. "I wanted to help you. I didn't want her to hurt you. Friends protect each other. I'm your friend. I just wanted to help you."_

_Nikias took a handkerchief out of his pocket and pressed it to her cheek, drying her tear._

_It felt, for a moment, that it would be an easy day from then on, but it wouldn't._

_In an angry fit, Theodora went around the castle, telling every guest that would listen that Hákon was holding Ingrid prisoner and that Asta was cursed. _

_The castle was filled with outrage._

{ **iii** }

Late that evening, Baron approached her when she stood alone staring out a window, hoping that nothing happened to Kouen or her soldiers or his or the people of her country. She sent all of her good wishes to everyone, hoping that they were protected and someplace warm. She reminded herself that she did all of this to help her people, but she was overwhelmed with the guilt of having to bring ruin to others for the sake of her husband's will.

"What are you trying to do?" asked Baron.

She looked at him. "What do you mean?"

"You betrayed your husband now when his brother is watching over Ione. You're at a clear disadvantage, Asta, you know that, right?"

She smiled weakly. "Yeah."

"What are you trying to do?" He moved an inch closer. "You can trust me. Hassah is loyal to you whatever you decide to do."

"I don't agree with what the Kou Empire is doing," said Asta. "I don't think Nikias is wrong in fighting. He has every right to protect his country, but I don't want anyone to get hurt. Not anymore and if my being here can help in accomplish that even a little bit, I am in the right place."

"Nikias is not okay. He imprisoned you. The way he treats you is—"

"I can't leave him alone to be killed."

"And you think that will happen?"

"I don't know," she admitted, her heart felt as if it were about to burst. "But I can't leave him here alone. If he dies, Baron, and if I can stop it, I should. I can't leave him alone."

"Asta," started Baron, facing her fully. His expression was serious. "Is this something that you see?"

She didn't understand. "What do you mean?"

"If you leave him here to whatever fate awaits him, do you see what will happen to him?"

"See? See how? I am just making assumptions given the circumstances. I see the position that he is in. He doesn't have anyone. My father killed his parents. He sold his sisters. I—I—"

"Do you feel responsible?"

"How can I not? My father was ordered to conquer Baryon and then Corrin. He killed King Ennio. He killed King Kyros. I don't know what happened to Princess Octavia, but if the Corrinean princesses were sold, I could only imagine and it was my husband—it was Kouen that ordered him to do it. I want this to end. I want this all to end without any more bloodshed. I betrayed Kouen because I want to save Nikias and I'm not afraid to stand against my husband to accomplish it."

"Asta," started Baron, taking her shoulders. "What do you think the outcome of this will be? What do you feel? What do you see?"

"I don't know."

"But you do. You know what will happen. You understand what the outcome of this war will be."

"I don't!" She expelled a breath, leaning into the wall beside the window. "Why are you asking those questions?"

"I just remember you had a knack for these things," he commented, "I'm sorry for pushing the subject."

"Knowing what things?" she asked, unable to understand.

"Things that haven't happened yet. Like with Queen Aquila. You knew where to find her. You led Melik and I there when nobody else believed you and we found her."

Asta blinked, feeling a tears fill her eyes at the thought. She hadn't thought about that, but she knew that it would've come up since the memory of the queen was tied closely with her memories of Nikias. "But it was too late."

"You said you dreamt of it. Have you had dreams of Corrin?" he asked softly.

She had dreams. Frightening dreams of poison and hidden dangers, of white figures and disintegrating crowns. She dreamt of darkness and death.

"I dream of my father," she said. "Cold, rotting, hysterically laughing."

"Do you think it means anything?"

"Only that I'm inadequate in my position."

She heard booted feet halt a distance from where they stood and turned upon hearing her name, "Queen Asta."

"Nero, not now," said Baron.

"Forgive me, my prince, for my insolence," he said, lifting his bowed head to meet her eyes, "but your majesty, I wished to see you and your soldiers well."

Asta smiled. "We are. Oh, but Aghi is downstairs in a room with a silver door. He is mending and is the only one of my soldiers that was wounded. Not badly mind you, but he has been advised to stay in bed until the wound on his heel closes up. He misses Carina's company, so I think a friendly face would make him quite happy."

"I'll be sure to greet him properly," said Nero, smiling with suppressed excitement.

Asta and Baron watched his hurried leave and smiled at one another.

"You have certainly matured," said Baron. "I remember that you stopped talking to Eklund after you realized Nero was smitten with him."

She frowned. "Let's not bring that up."

"It was cute seeing you so jealous."

She looked at him and laughed. He joined her. Together, they shared their memories and joy. Laughter eased her heavy chest. Eventually they found a stone bench along the corridor to sit in and continued to speak.

As they remained on the subject of relationships, reminiscing of her embarrassing youth, she asked, "Did you find someone you love?"

Baron was silent for a moment, but offered her a bittersweet smile. "I did, but she's gone now. Disease took her."

"I'm so sorry."

"We were happy for a time and that's more than enough for me." The tone of his voice saddened her because it was clear to her that it still pained him, but his face brightened. "And you?"

"My father arranged a marriage between me and the Kou Empire," she told him. "That is all that has happened to me."

"Did you not have someone before that? It was supposed to be your choice, right? Who you married."

She thought of Johan, but her feelings toward him were conflicting after the accusations that had been made of him. She believed him; she really did, so it hurt her to consider these allegations for the sake of seeing things in everyone's perspective. "I did have someone, but my father executed him. For treason." She glimpsed at his serious face. "He said that he was using me and that it was all an elaborate ploy thought up by Ionian nobles, but…I…I don't know what to think."

"Do you think they're right?" asked Baron.

"Even Kouen made a mention of it and if I think about it, it makes sense. If you find a weak link, you should exploit it, right?" she questioned. "I am and have always been the weakest link."

"I don't think you'd have been allowed on the battlefield if anyone thought that way," said Baron. "I'm talking about how you ended up here. Did you make the decision to go through the Corrinean Tunnels alone?"

"I was the only one that knew about them and I…I suppose I was happy that Kouen believed I could do it. I feel bad that I failed."

"War is about failures as much as it is about winning. You did what you thought was best and that was coming here. At the very least, you have a husband that will not view you as your father did. I think he knows that you are worth more than the price that your father took for you. I understand that you were supposed to marry the Kou Empire's Third Prince and went into the alliance marrying their First."

"You are quite informed."

"Hassah is a hotspot of gossip."

"Do you think I'm doing the right thing?"

"What is the right thing?" asked Baron honestly. "The subject is too complex is it not? You should do what you think is right. I already told you once before, but Hassah is on your side even if it means allowing our country to be swallowed up by the Kou Empire."

"You do know what that would mean, don't you?"

Baron nodded solemnly.

"Why would you be okay with that?" she whispered.

"Because the person that is standing at Prince Kouen's side is you. Anyone else and we would draw our swords and fight, but Hassah has faith in you. We know that no matter what country we become a part of that you will shield us."

"That is too much faith to have," she said embarrassed. "I don't think you should think so highly of me. I'll do what I can, but if I can't, I'll feel bad about disappointing everyone."

Baron patted her shoulder. "You should get used to all this burden. It'll serve you well as an empress."

"If I can grow and learn from it, I'll welcome it."

"Now tell me, Asta, what are your intentions being here?" asked Baron.

"I want to know who killed my father because I know they are after Kouen's life as well," admitted Asta. She didn't hesitate. "I understand that the Ionian nobles rising to rebel against my rule asked Corrin for aid and I know that if I sever their ties and can convince Nikias to lay down his weapons peacefully, we can come up with a good plan for our future as part of the Kou Empire. I would rather not continue warring against the remaining kingdoms and I know that I am not offering them much in return for what they will be giving up, but we cannot oppose the Kou Empire. That I understand. I'd rather the Byzen Cluster still have people living in it than for us to fall completely and be inhabited by others that have never known our homes."

"I will ask Melik to look into Nikias' link to your camp."

"Thank you."

"Does Kouen know that you're doing this?" he asked.

She nodded.

"Okay." Baron took her hand and covered it. "Good." He brought her hand up and kissed the top of it. "Sleep well, princess."

Asta felt relieved to trust someone with her full intent, but wondered if it was the right thing to do as she ventured back to her room. She heard the sound of her father's mocking laughter as he taunted her about making mistakes and she ignored him. She silenced his voice in her mind, refusing to believe that she was actually hearing his voice. As she repeated the sentiment in her head, she saw a glimmer of silver in the darkness of a room whose door was opened a crack. She took a step back, standing in front of it, and saw Nikias standing before a glass case atop a short column that held a crown.

She neared the door, knocking against the it.

Nikias looked in her direction and gestured her in. She entered as he stepped back to have a closer look at the crown and wordlessly asked for her opinion. She stared at the crown mesmerized by the familiarity she felt when looking at it. The diadem was so beautifully pale in the moonlight that it resembled ivory instead of silver. It was a circlet of tangled vines with frozen blooms encrusted all around it that sparkled as if they were diamonds. She reached out to touch it and her fingers hit the cold glass, triggering a memory of a figure in white handing her that same crown that disintegrated to her touch.

"This was your mother's," said Asta, looking to Nikias who stared at her silently, the moonlight pale against his milky skin.

"She was wearing it when she was killed."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be, we were better off. She practically sold my sisters to your father to save herself."

"We will get them back, I promise you."

"I won't hold my breath." Nikias sidled up next to her and lifted the glass box. "I dreamt of this moment for quite some time."

She watched him, curious to learn what he meant by his words. He set the box atop a table aligned against the wall and returned to take the crown from its delicate perch. He moved to stand in front of her, surprising her when he placed it atop her head. He carefully arranged a few strands of her pale hair so that they would fall down the side of her face. Her heart seized up, beating louder in her chest.

"What do you mean?" she asked, though deep down she knew exactly what he had meant. It felt as if she had always known even when he appeared to her with a cruel veneer, but she only needed him to say it.

"I aged learning to love you," he whispered, moving closer to her with each declaration. "I didn't care who you were or what you are or if you were cursed, I wanted you, I wanted you so badly that I begged my mother and father to have you. I was patient. I was waiting patiently for you to grow, hoping that you loved me too. Loved me like you loved the traitor Johan Ek, loved me as you will pretend to love Prince Kouen. I didn't care. I didn't care if it was all a lie, I just wanted you to be my wife. I swore that when you were, we would rebuild Ione to its former glory. You would've had the support of the Byzen Cluster." He seized her upper arms, startling her. "But you betrayed me. You married him instead. You had me all this time and yet you thought of others. You sought and continue to seek their help instead of mine. I have your answers. I grew up loving you since the Byzen Festival. Day after day, I swear to you that I did."

"I didn't have a choice in marrying Kouen. Everything was decided without my opinion."

"You should've run away, come to me! I would've protected you! Without your marriage to Kouen, access to these islands would have been delayed! If when and that is if they ever came, we would unite against them, all of the Cluster armies would have put up a fight. We wouldn't be scrambling around so much now, hiding here for the sake of waiting to get an upper hand and even though we could have it now, we are still running around like idiots!"

"You cannot put the blame entirely on me! This was all sprung on me! I had no choice! I wasn't asked for permission when it came to my marriage! Stop pretending that it is just because things didn't go your way! Do you think I wanted to be here? I wanted to be somewhere—anywhere else in the world! I was going to stop being a princess for the sake of Johan!"

"He was a traitor! He planned to sell you back for your father's crown!"

"You don't know that!"

"I was there! I was there when Freja Tjäder gave him the mission! He didn't care about you! He seduced you on purpose and you just let it happen!"

"If he did, you can blame my naivety, but you cannot fault me completely!"

"What's happened to you? You're so vulnerable! You're so easy to fool! You weren't like this before! You were strong before!"

"I am what my father made me! I am the decisions he made! I am the embodiment of the woman he claimed could not have the throne! And if that means that I'm weak and vulnerable and that you're going to take advantage of all of those things same as every other man that has tried to fool me, go ahead! Do it! All I want is my country back and I—"

"I don't want to do that! I want to protect you!"

Nikias tried to kiss her but she covered his mouth with her hand. Her heart skipped a beat because of the thought that ran through her mind the instant she saw it coming. She couldn't let him kiss her because she could still feel Kouen's mouth on her, a reminder of her promise to him. She couldn't sully that, she wouldn't. Even if it was just for her sake, she vowed to keep the sensation in place until she saw him again.

The Silver Prince released her, his blue eyes narrowed as he removed her palm from his lips. He held it tight in both hands as his gaze bore into hers. "You will be mine, even if I have to execute your husband to accomplish it."

He kissed her knuckles as she tried to take her hand from him. He finally released her and headed for the door, smiling as if nothing had happened.

She whirled around. "You said you didn't trust me!"

He halted at the entrance of the room. "I don't, but I don't love you less because of it."

"You don't know me enough to love me," she argued.

"Then let us settle with that fact that I am in love with the idea of you. Good enough?"

Nikias didn't wait for an answer. He left her alone in the room with his mother's heavy crown on her head. She removed it and stared at it.

_"How heartless of you." _She lifted her eyes from the familiar crown and saw her father seated in a high-backed chair, one leg crossed over the other. _"What would you have lost if you had just given him a kiss?"_

"Shut up."

_"Give him the attention he seeks from you and I assure you that you will bring a quick end to this war. You will have him eating from the palm of your hand if you would simply offer him a taste."_

"I will not become you."

She returned the crown from where Nikias removed it and headed for the door as he chuckled.

_"Do you think that your husband will be faithful to you if you are to him? He needs heirs above all and if you're as faulty as your mother, he should not expect a son."_

She wasn't delusional. She knew that, but she reminded herself that their marriage was one of convenience as Kouen often reminded her. She should think the same as he did, but her feelings were hurt.

Asta ignored the sound of his mocking voice and refocused her attention on her current task. She wouldn't let Nikias' words shake her. She'd move forward and do everything she could to end the conflict before any more casualties resulted. However, it pained her to have to become aware of everything the prince had confessed. She worried about hurting him more than ever now.

She turned the corner to reach the corridor that would take her straight to her room, but as soon as she did, she felt a blunt impact that rendered her unconscious.


	23. (08) White Marble - Pt 3

**WHITE MARBLE** | LADY BO

* **i ***

Timing.

At the end of the day, timing was quite possibly the most important aspect of all well-thought out plan. One didn't simply wake up one morning to take on any dangerous endeavor without any sense of timing because that would easily result in failure. The scrambling rebels hoping to retake their country from the Kou Empire were lacking in timing and patience.

Dealing with the Kou Empire would require any good nation patience and impeccable timing. The thought did not make Bo feel as treasonous as one might imply because of her position and affiliation to the empire because she served but one person, one only. It was not the Kou Empire.

The Kou Empire squashed rebellions with ease. They understood their inner workings to the point that being one-step ahead of each was a given. It was difficult for the traitors of the Ionian House to act in the presence of Kouen, whose overbearing appearance gave off the impression of omnipotence. Whether there was any accuracy in that or not, it was prudent of them to be wary enough to postpone any rebellions while he remained in the king's vacant seat, exerting the dominance of his entire nation.

Kouen was gone now. He went off to do what he did best. Conquest. It was in his blood.

Obviously, the time to act had presented itself to them. Unfortunately, none of them did their homework when it came to the Kou Empire. Being in the center of all the attention has certain advantages for Kouen because people start to overlook things. In hierarchy, a second prince was likely not as valuable as the first, but Ren Koumei, despite his sorry appearance and seemingly passive attitude made him the perfect target for people's erroneous interpretations what it meant to have good timing.

Ever since Kouen left and took Asta with him, leaving Koumei in charge of developing changes and their implementation, the country's upstarts decided that they would not have a better opportunity. It was quite the opposite. They couldn't have chosen a worse opportunity to strike. Koumei would not allow the rebellion to pick up any more traction than he viewed permissible, but even she didn't know what went on in that head of his and if she asked, he would have questions she wouldn't like to answer.

Bo knew Bengt was spreading rumors about the princess having slept with every member of the Castle Guard, but that backfired. People loved the princess to the point that the ex-chamberlain made a mockery of himself by running his mouth and had for a short while been known as "Crazy Bengt" until he was picked up on the street by a woman with brown hair. She didn't need a full description of the woman to know it was Brita acting on Freja's orders. Although, what use they had for a useless buffoon like Bengt baffled her. There was more intelligent life in the sea than in that man's meager brain, but maybe that was the point. They needed a useless suck up to do all the dirty work under the guise of a glorified secretary. She supposed with some grooming, they could turn Bengt into a dangerous player.

Freja wasn't as stupid as Bengt when it came to feeding the right sort of false information to fool everyone into making mobs that'd willingly pick up arms and challenge the Kou Empire. Word that Kouen was a brute with Asta spread like wildfire. She heard about it everywhere she went. People were good at making up stories. People loved scandalous stories, especially those that could result in bringing them more importance. According to Freja, if they picked up arms against the Kou Empire, they would be saving their princess.

People would line up for the opportunity. In fact, they were doing so in abandoned warehouses, buildings, and homes around the country.

However, that was not the point.

Timing was the issue and Bo belatedly realized that hers was completely off. She allowed the princess to travel alone with Hua because it upset her that she wanted to chase after Kouen. It was a lovely sentiment that Asta wanted to prove a lot of things. She wanted to be worthy of the crown Kouen planned to secure on her head. She might have developed an interest in her husband, which was good. In fact, that would be perfect.

However, Bo didn't want to let her go. She wanted her to stay behind and learn as much as she could from Koumei. It would've done her a lot of good to remain in the castle and for them to find a way to dismiss the rumors. She would be in danger out there. It was too early for her to go out into the world. If she was who she believed she was, the protection she received from being in Ione would be dispelled. If the information got out, _he_ would come after her.

Bo informed Fu of her outing early that morning. Fu would take care of everything that needed to be taken care of. She knew the schedule better than anyone did, so Bo wouldn't have any worries about leaving the castle. Bo made it seem as if she were heading to the market. She casually hinted at it for the last couple of days as it had taken her nearly a week to find for the midwife's hut.

The midwife lived by a cliff deep in the Hult Forests, hidden by protection charms that tended to ward off unwelcomed guests. It was a simple wood and straw hut sitting in the center of a clearing with a backdrop of blue sky and ocean waters and a look of abandonment. A large trunk sat near one side of it with an axe cleaved into it and a neat stack of firewood aligned against the wall, under a narrow window. There was a clothesline with fresh linens billowing from them.

Bo approached the entrance of the hut. She heard the bubbling of liquid on a fire coming from within. She smelled the mixture of herbs and flowers strongly in her nearness. She saw the soft clanking of animal bones hung from the roof to serve as a wind chime.

She didn't knock. The door opened and a small sturdy woman with black stringy hair tied into a braid over her left shoulder appeared, grunting at the sight of her.

"I wondered when you'd show your face, Bo Xia," she said, looking past her to scan the area confirming its emptiness. She pushed open the door for her. "Get in."

Bo entered the cramped hut. There wasn't much room for movement. The walls were covered in shelves holding jars and magical items she had never seen before. Atop the flames was a pot of boiling herbs that gave off a sweet scent. There weren't any walls dividing the different areas, everything simply was in one big room. The narrow bed sat on the other side of the house surrounded by tomes of varying shapes and sizes. Against the head of it was a wooden staff that curled over a spherical ruby.

"Sit where you'd like. You'll be offended regardless." The older midwife wound her way around her tightly packed home to reach an armchair where she took her seat.

Bo followed her, choosing to remain standing. "You know exactly why I'm here, Maeve."

"Are you here on your own free will or on the will of another?" asked Maeve, reaching for a blackened kettle sitting on the floor. "Tea?"

Bo dismissed the offer. "I came for myself and against my better judgment."

"Ask what you've come to ask."

"How long until she starts seeing? She is the one, isn't she?"

"She's the one, yes."

"Well, how long until she starts to see?"

"She's never stopped."

"Never stopped?"

"The earliest was a nightmare in her youth. She's never stopped since." Maeve picked a chipped teacup from the floor and filled it with tea. She drank from it, a pause before speaking once more, "She can't make sense of what she's seeing. They're all just nightmares and figures in the dark. Nothing more."

"You need to teach her."

"Me? Is that not why you were assigned here?"

"I'm here to make sure she belongs to the Kou Empire, nothing more."

Maeve smiled. "Then why haven't you told them that she's the one."

Bo swallowed hard. She asked herself the same question every day. She didn't have a good reason to keep the information from those she served, but she kept it. She said nothing and watched Asta knowing, every day that passed, learning that she was the one that they were looking for all these years. If the information spread, he would definitely know.

"Even if you try to keep yourself silent, they will reunite, and it won't matter how much you try to tie her down with Prince Kouen," said Maeve. "She will go back to _him _and there is not a force in the world that can stop her from doing so."

Bo should have accepted that tea. She felt her throat dry up from the mere thought of it.

"She will be safe for now, but if she were to leave the Byzen Cluster, my protection won't be able to reach her," said Maeve. "Find a reason for her to stay, continue to hide her, and we might have a fighting chance in the final conflict."

**WHITE MARBLE **| END


	24. (09) Black Snake - Pt 1

**NINE**: Black Snake

* * *

**Ione**

_The Sword._

Responsibility for the safety and preservation of the Byzen Cluster falls upon the Kingdom of Ione. As such, they are a militant country known primarily for their large army and the nine commanders that lead it. The Royal Family's defenders, the Castle Guard (or more commonly known the Royal Guard by foreign countries), is said to be a collection of the country's most talented warriors.

Since Hákon's rule, their military's numbers have swelled, statistics claim that they had tripled. During his reign, Hákon implemented new training regimes to ensure that all of his soldiers were in peak condition. The head of the Noble House of Tjäder serves as the Head Commander of the Ionian Army, but as their primary duty is to protect their country, the command of the army in times of war (with foreign countries) falls on their second-in-command, the Leader of the Nine Swords, who is referred to as the Senior Commander within the army. However, it has been a long standing tradition for the current queen or king to lead the army into war.

* * *

**xl**: Hello readers new and old! Welcome to the 9th chapter of Empress! This is a pretty lengthy chapter. I admittedly planned for it to be broken up into 2 halves, but it didn't feel right, so it's just going to get to you in its 16k+ goodness! It took me a while to write it, so I hope that it is worth the wait!

Special thanks to these lovely individuals for taking the time to review: **Papillon Mystre**, **Lunime**, **grimxichixshiroxmomoxorixx**, and **Melicity**. Also, thank you to everyone for adding this story to your favorites/alerts list recently.

P.S. I wasn't able to upload this via the usual means (I copied-and-pasted into the doc manager), so please excuse the presence of any formatting issues. All of the mistakes are mine, though.

Enjoy.


	25. (09) Black Snake - Pt 2

**BLACK SNAKE** | REN KOUEN

[ **i **]

"What do you hope to accomplish in destroying two of my ships and pledging your loyalty to me?" asked Kouen, searching the Hassahan Prince's face for changes in his generally bright countenance. He had him detained and stripped of his weapons, including the sword he carried that bore the eight-pointed star surrounded by a circle upon the base of its blade, and had, after having kept him imprisoned separate from the others for the whole night, gone to seek out the motivations for his actions.

The Hassahan prince displayed no obvious ill intent, but the destruction of two supply ships said the contrary. He sat peacefully, cross-legged in the center of a storage tent packed with tools provided to Egil Vång, the skilled blacksmith that accompanied his now-dead king into the battlefield to provide him and his soldiers with the best weapons and reparations.

The prince looked at him with coal-black eyes and a friendly smile, answering, "You should consider that a display of my loyalty."

It appeared obvious that Kouen would need all the patience he possessed to deal with this man.

"Don't glare at me like that," said Melik Buhari.

"Consider your circumstances," said Kouen. "No man would accept the loyalty of another who chooses to show it through the destruction of two of his supply ships."

"Okay, okay," said Melik, "I understand your distrust. It isn't completely unfounded. It was probably not a good idea to destroy your supply ships, but I had to do it because as Crown Prince of Hassah, people have certain expectations of me. You should know that as the future emperor of your country."

He understood expectations, but that didn't answer why he thought it was a brilliant idea to destroy those ships before pledging his loyalty. Did he intend to use that as a display of his strength? If so, it didn't work. The only impression it made on Kouen was that he was destructive with no positive motivations.

"You should also consider the fact that I destroyed two _supply _ships, not two ships full of soldiers," continued Melik. "If I had any real bad intentions, I would've gone straight for your soldiers' ships and as a Metal Vessel user; you know that it wouldn't have been all that hard for me to accomplish it, even with all those magicians you're carrying for extra protection."

"Why are you dancing around the subject?" asked Kouen. "Answer the question."

"Hassah came to pledge its loyalty to Asta," said Melik, and for the first instant since their conversation began, it appeared to Kouen that he had heard a hint of honesty in his tone. "Hassah is a sacred country. We don't like war."

"Yet you have warriors to partake in one."

"We are not so stupid that we would not have any. They are meant to protect us from the threat of others if that threat was not crushed by Ione first," said Melik. "The Kou Empire is a threat to our country, but Ione is now a part of it, and that left us with only one viable option: join you. We have conditions—nothing too outrageous that you would deny—but we can settle those when we clean up here. Call it a secret alliance until I find all of Nikias' moles."

"You could be one of them."

"I am one of them, at least as far as he knows. The truth is that I serve one person and one only: Asta. You can consider my loyalty to you an extension of that."

Kouen could criticize Asta's inexperience in war and naivety with people all that he wanted, but he couldn't deny that the soldiers loyal to her were among the more trustworthy individuals in the Caste Guard. Under the guise of an imprisoned soldier, Carina Olander searched for information on Nikias' informants.

"You will be released from your chains," Kouen told him. "Until you earn my trust, however, I will keep your metal vessel. Do you have any complaints on the condition?"

Melik brightened. "None. Keep it as long as you need."

Kouen turned away to depart, but the prince rattled his chains, calling for him, "Wait! Don't go!"

He halted, looking back to him and noticed Melik was a bit distracted with picking the locks of his chains.

"Since we cleared the air between us, you should know Asta confessed she feels compelled to save Nikias, but that she will betray him for you to gain control of this country in your empire's stead."

"I know."

"Oh, you do? Did you plan for her to be taken as well?"

"No, that is what she decided to do in an effort to her cause. She has not yet grown up enough to realize that not everyone can be saved."

"I think it is because she is so familiar with the notion that she is so determined to save him," said Melik, releasing himself from his bindings. "You must have noticed it by now. I heard it has a tendency to manifest around metal vessel users quicker than around others." At the perplexed expression that he must have let slip, Melik pointed to his right eye, continuing his explanation, "She can see things. Things that haven't happened. Things that can happen. Things that might or might not happen. Her eye is sharper the closer she is to more rukh."

"Asta?"

"There are magicians capable of divination, you know, somewhere out there. Don't sound _too _surprised, you married her because of it, didn't you? She's incredibly valuable."

"Are you saying that Asta is a magician?"

"The truth is I don't think she's a magician. I don't think I've known anyone that knows what she actually is, I just know what others have told me and what I've seen—she speaks to the dead and all," explained Melik. "She's scarily accurate."

That was it. The answer he sought when Asta _betrayed _him. The reason his marriage to her was accepted without complaints from his father and with the encouragement of his stepmother. The problem now was why she was of any importance at all. A skill like the one Melik described, if she truly possessed it, would be a desirable one and with it on the Kou Empire's side, they could make easy work of conquering the rest of the world, but was that all it meant?

"What have you heard?" asked Kouen.

"Wait, you sound like you didn't know this about her," said Melik, covering his mouth. "Whoops."


	26. (09) Black Snake - Pt 3

**BLACK SNAKE** |

{ **i** }

There was dry blood on her scalp when she reached up to touch it. Her skull throbbed because of the hit it withstood. She knew she was conscious, but at the same time, she didn't feel that she was fully conscious. She felt disoriented as she raised her body up into a seat. Everything moved quickly to catch up. Being in an upright position made her nauseous. The dimly lit room wouldn't stop spinning and her vision was blurred trying to keep up with the suddenness of her movements. She couldn't tell where she was, but she made out figures outlined in the dark and heard voices—hushed and rushed, arguing she assumed—all around her like droplets of water on a surface, a continuous sound.

Asta took note of the shackles on her wrists and ankles and dizzily followed the chain links to the nail a few feet away that lodged them to the ground. She tugged at them uselessly, but the slightest movements made her flinch, so she stilled herself, despite the spinning room.

"So, you're finally awake?"

Her heart sank to the pit of her stomach when the question filled her with familiarity. She watched a figure approach her, booted feet making a hollow sound with each step forward, but she could not make out their features, only colors. The person—a woman—wore Ione's military uniform and above her blurred pale face, Asta distinguished red hair.

"Brenna Falk," she uttered in disbelief, blinking many times in the hopes of focusing her line of vision. She followed the woman's figure until she took a seat above a square bulk obstructing her sight of the rest of the bleak room—wide, but shrouded in darkness, and filled with white pillars. She took a shuddering breath. "Why are you doing this?"

"Why?" asked Brenna. "You still have the audacity to ask why? Honestly, how stupid can you be?"

"Please," started Asta woefully, "release me. This is treason. If anyone found out, you'd be—"

"Do you think we care about treason?" she interjected. "We don't care if we are caught and executed for killing a pathetic princess like you."

She swallowed thickly, tasting blood in her mouth. "Why are you doing this?"

"You and your father caused this," declared Brenna. "The differences being that he died like he was supposed to and you're still around. You think that simply having a title gives you the right to order us around—you, a useless princess without any experience outside of frivolous affairs? That isn't how it works, princess."

"And kidnapping me to tell me all this is how it works?"

Brenna clocked her with her fist so hard Asta hit her head on the ground hard. She reached down to take a handful of Asta's hair and jerk her head back, forcing her to lift herself into a seat again.

Pain bloomed across Asta's head, so unbearable that she cried out with tears in her eyes.

"If you would've been a good little girl and stayed home and waited for your turn to come, we wouldn't have to deal with having to side with your moody prince friend or the goddamned Kou Empire," spat Brenna.

Oh. She understood. "You're supporters of the rebellion? You want Freja to ascend the throne?"

"She's the only one worthy of the honor, not you, and most definitely not your thieving husband. You don't understand a thing, you ignorant girl," stated Brenna. "You're so stupid that you'd go along with whatever mess your father left you in, just as you're doing now. You've turned your back on the Byzen Cluster and have gone along with everything that the Kou Empire wants!"

"I betrayed the Kou Empire the first chance I had!" she shouted, frustrated with the blame that everyone placed upon her. She had enough burdens. She dealt with enough guilt. She wasn't happy about the conquest of her neighboring islands, but she couldn't stand up to the Kou Empire. She didn't have any backing, not the kind that would make a difference. They were a small island nation and the Kou Empire was much bigger. "I never had a choice in what my life became! What was I supposed to do?"

"Do you know what I would've done? I would've killed my father if he went behind my back and did something like that!"

"I'm not you!"

"This is why we're in this mess! You've done nothing! You claim that you are, you make these stupid, thoughtless decisions without considering the consequences, but you're not making a difference, you're making a bigger mess of things! You're better off dead!"

"I'm trying!" she cried, and felt ashamed that she had admitted it. "And I can't do anything if I'm dead!"

Brenna threw her down to the ground again. "It doesn't matter," she said, pushing a strand of red hair from her face. She reached around her back, taking a dagger out and flashing it at her. "You won't live long enough anyways."

"Don't. It's treason, you'll regret it—"

"Me? Nikias will be taking the blame for this," said Brenna, grinning. On cue, two other soldiers emerged from the darkness, crossing into the light as they dragged the dead bodies of two dead Corrinean soldiers with them. "It took us a few days to pick these guys out and find a place where we could kill you without any interruptions. It'll be so unfortunate. We'll say we searched the entire castle until we found you with these soldiers and we killed them, but it was too late to save you. It won't be long before everyone blames Nikias, and then, we will rally against him. Like that we'll solve our Corrin problem as well."

Asta watched more shadowed men as they crept closer and she could make out the features of their faces. If she saw them again, she would be able to pinpoint them in a crowd. She had seen them before, crowded around Brenna since they arrived to this palace, speaking to her so quietly that she should've suspected they were plotting against her. How long had they been talking about bringing her down to this low-ceiling room filled with pillars and shadows? How many days had it taken to find this room? How long would it take Baron and Werner?

She returned her gaze to Brenna as she raised the tip of her dagger to the base of Asta's throat, prepared to thrust it in deep. The steel felt cold on her skin, colder than the room ever got in her father's presence.

"Don't," she said again.

Brenna laughed. "Goodbye, princess."

Asta closed her eyes and felt the knife pierce her skin. It wasn't that she resolved to die in that instant, she didn't have a choice in the matter, but that she simply did not want to see their faces. She imagined them twisted in joy and she didn't want to confirm it.

She started to feel pain and the blood slide down her chest, thick and warm.

A stampede of footsteps reverberated above their heads and the doors at the other end of the room slammed open. Distracted by the suddenness of new developments, Brenna stayed her hand instead of plunging the dagger in and being done with it. She wasted milliseconds in her reaction time, but Asta reacted, though her wrists and ankles were bound, she swung her arms hand knocking the blade from Brenna's hand. She heard it clatter in the dark.

Brenna's reflexes were better than hers were. Before the dagger hit the ground, she had taken another blade from one of the soldiers standing nearby and made a swing at her. Asta took cover with her arms and waited.

She expected to feel pain. Instead, she heard several bodies hit the ground with unhappy grunts and vehement protests. She heard Brenna curse her name.

"That is enough Commander Falk!"

Asta opened her eyes and lifted her face to see Werner approaching her. Another soldier held a struggling Brenna pinned to the ground.

"Search them for a key to these locks," ordered Werner.

"Found it!" called Baron. He waited for Werner to meet his gaze before tossing the key in his direction.

Werner caught it and bent down in front of Asta, taking her hands delicately in his. He released her from her bounds and helped her back on her feet. He unpinned his cape and draped it over her shoulders to cover her.

She didn't die.

She was saved at the last minute. She survived.

She swallowed deeply, the pain in her scalp combining with the sting in her throat. She looked at Werner, who stared at her solemnly.

"Forgive me, princess, that my poor judgment allowed for things to escalate," said Werner, lowering his head into a deep bow.

Asta was in pain. More pain that she thought possible.

_"You understand what you must do."_

She did.

She didn't need her father's ghost to tell her what needed to be done, but that didn't mean she felt it any less.

"Execute them," she ordered. Her whole body shook.

Werner bowed deeper. "As you wish."

He drew his blade as she stood back and watched the rest of the soldiers file into the room in awe of the events about to transpire. The five soldiers and Brenna, guilty of an attempt against royalty, were lined up and forced onto their knees. One by one, their lives would be taken from them with the swiftness of Werner's blade. At her request, he would play executioner.

She should've left as soon as the order left her lips, but she remained to see it happen. Her father had once called that a courtesy. He had ordered the executions of many, including Johan one distant year ago, and he had said that the least he could do for them is see them die.

"_You will not become me?_"

Baron went to stand next to her as Werner walked up to the soldiers steeling himself for the act.

"She wanted to blame Nikias for my death," said Asta. "She is one of my aunt's supporters."

"Are you okay, Asta?"

"Yes," she lied.

She felt like a traitor. She felt so much loathing towards herself that she could barely stand to watch the bloody scene unfold before her. She flinched when Werner decapitated the first soldier, nearly closing her eyes. The steel of his blade cut straight and through. It was a painless death, more than any one of them deserved. For the second male, she tried to suppress the twitch of her body when Werner's sword sang as it cut the man's neck. Another clean cut.

It continued until Brenna was the last one left. Asta made the effort to look her in the eyes for as long as she could, saying nothing even as Brenna insulted her as far back as her ancestors. She watched her struggle to the point that another soldier was ordered to hold her head still. She watched that man's fingers snake through her hair, grasping her skull tight. Werner raised his sword high above his head and swung it quickly.

Brenna Falk died with a curse on her lips.

Asta sensed that anger emanating from the soldiers who considered Brenna a friend or an inspiration. She thought highly of her once as well. She was exhausted more and more each day being treated so poorly by everyone because she was a stupid, naïve woman. She was finished with it. She didn't care anymore.

She took a step forward. Werner wiped the blood off his blade with a handkerchief. The headless bodies of the traitors lay motionless on the ground, bleeding out into the floor, and their pale faces forever frozen in indignation. A single step forward attracted everyone's attention.

"Mourn the loss of your commander for the good she accomplished and then burn her body," said Asta. "Burn the corpses of your brothers in arms as soon as possible. Be done with it. Remember as you do that they are there for attempting against my life and conspiring against the Ionian throne."

She heard whispers in the back, too low to understand them, but their presence upset her. "I do not care if not one of your respects me," stated Asta, loud enough that her voice echoed. The emotion in it evident, edging in despair, and her vision was blurred by the tears she refused to shed. "You are free not to. I don't need you to respect me; I need you to follow orders. And if you want to live longer than these six, you will obey me."

With those final words, she departed. Baron pursued her. Werner stayed behind to handle the aftermath of the executions. She felt too disgusted with herself to have come so far as to order the deaths of others.

"Are you okay?" asked Baron, walking beside her observant of her face.

She said nothing because her muddled mind wouldn't allow it.

She hated herself. She felt as if she had torn the part of her that she knew was her and tossed it aside with those orders. That wasn't who she was.

"Is this what you truly wanted?" he continued, and she snapped.

"No! It isn't!" She halted, facing him. "But should I have just let them get away with trying to kill me?"

"No, you misunderstand, I would've done the same in your position, but you are kind. This is unlike you."

"I'm tired," she admitted, "of being treated like an animal—no, not even animals are treated as I have been! I'm exhausted and frustrated! I'm a person! I'm a human being! I don't like pain and I don't like to bleed! I don't want others to think that they have any right to decide whether I live or die!"

"Yes, but—"

"I hated it! Every second of it! I regret it!" Asta brought a hand to her chest. "I feel like I have a gaping hole in my chest, but this can't be happening! People need to stop seeing me as an easy target—I refuse; I refuse to do this again and again! The next person to put their hands on me will end up like them because I've had enough! I'm done and I hate myself for it, for becoming this person so foreign to me!"

Baron reached out to touch her arm, but she pulled back, shaking her head.

"I'm sorry, Asta."

"No, this isn't your fault." She lowered her eyes to the ground briefly and met his gaze again. She touched the blood on her neck, glad that the cut wasn't deep. "I should go have this treated."

"Let me accompany you."

She forced herself to smile. "I'll be okay. Don't worry about me."

He didn't insist and she was grateful to him. She left on the pretense of treating her injuries, but she didn't go anywhere where she could seek that sort of help. She made her way out of the room and lost herself in the uninhabited part of Nikias' castle, aware of why Brenna and her band of followers thought it ideal to use the room down the dark stairs.

She walked around aimlessly until she found a familiar corridor that returned her to her bedroom. Once inside, she went into the bathroom to clean up the wound and the blood. There was a long mirror inside the sparkling white room. In the center was a large pearlescent pool filled with water. It was otherwise sparse. A few bottles of shampoos, soaps, and oils sat in a round box. There were a few shelves, though only one was occupied by towels and bathrobes.

The sink in front of the mirror was wide and filled with water that she used to drench a washcloth she found draped over its edge to wash the blood off her skin. The cut was shallow, but the skin around it was bright red and tender. The back of her head was throbbing from the hit earlier and had crusted blood on it. Her pale hair was dyed red.

Her eyes were swollen and puffy. She wasn't bleeding anymore, but she was in a lot of pain. Emotional and physical all wrapped up in one giant hole in her chest.

She opted to bathe. She needed to wash the blood out of her hair.

It didn't take long for her to struggle helplessly to clean up the back of her head. She didn't want to call anyone. She wanted to be alone and let everything sink in the way that she needed it to because if it didn't, she would lose heart and break apart.

She sat in a little rounded bench in the pool filled with bubbles and bit down on her bottom lip to keep herself from crying.

She realized that what she had done would have been any sane person's response, especially in her position. If she spared them, they would find a reason and time to come after her a second time. Brenna admitted she supported Freja. She hinted at her aunt's attempt at the Ionian throne, which made it impossible to protect the Ionian House like she swore she would. She would've been killed. She was almost murdered.

Baron said he would've done the same. She didn't doubt others would as well. She thought she made an impulsive decision when she sentenced Brenna and the others to their deaths. The words were bitter on her tongue. She never imagined ordering another's death, let alone several. She opted to find solutions. She wasn't like her father. She didn't want to be like him.

"_And yet, here were are and you are exactly like me._" She raised her eyes from the water's surface and saw him seated in the bench across the pool of water, dressed in the finery of his black military uniform. He had his legs and arms crossed. A proud look lit his damaged, rotting face. "_Mercy and kindness do not help you keep your kingdom._"

"I am not you."

"_Maybe not now, but in time, you will be._"

She heard knocking at the door and turned to it, her heart jumped to her throat, afraid she might have been heard. If anyone heard her talking to herself, they would think she was crazy. She was. She had to be. Nobody else saw her father sitting there in the—abruptly she turned back to the stone bench where Hákon should have been to find him gone.

"Princess."

Aghi.

"Princess, are you in there?" he called, the door's handle jiggling but not yielding because of the lock. "I heard you were found! I—princess, please—!"

She didn't offer him a response. She didn't want to be seen in her weaken state, but his knocks grew insistent. She didn't have the energy to shout. Each time the handle jiggled, wilder as his anxiety peaked, she felt the walls she built up to spare her the emotional distress she wanted to avoid start to crumble.

"Princess! Princess!"

She heard his voice grow distant and relaxed in her seat. He returned quickly, talking back to another whose voice was quiet and patient. The door's handle jiggled one, then twice, and finally, she saw Aghi burst through the door limping.

He froze dead in his tracks when he realized she was in the bath and slammed the door shut before Nero of Hassah, who she caught a glimpse of behind him, followed him.

"Come back later!" he shouted, then turned to her, keeping his gaze on the floor. "Princess, I'm sorry, I'll leave, but I just wanted to say sorry and—your head. They hit your head. You're bloody. Are you okay?"

She hesitated when she pointed to her head. "Can you…help me with it? I can't clean the wound well."

"Ah, yes, I can."

Aghi folded up his pants to his knees and removed his jacket, tossing it aside, away from the water. He took a thin bottle of shampoo and squeezed some out into his palm. He hesitated before he lathered the scented soap into the bottom of her hair.

"I'm sorry if this hurts. I can tend the wound once you're done bathing."

"Thank you."

He started to dab at the wound on the back of her head and it hurt. She was crying into the water, and as she was, Aghi apologized, though it was not because he was hurting her, but for not being there when she was taken.

"I'm okay," said Asta.

She wasn't.

"I should've been with you and yet I was lying in bed, sleeping while you were in danger!" he said, angry with himself. "Carina would have punched me for allowing this to happen."

Asta shook her head. "I'm okay."

"Nobody should have the right to touch you, not without consequence, I do hope Werner—"

"I ordered them executed," said Asta, interrupting him. His hands stopped moving around her scalp. "I ordered them dead. I took six lives. Aghi, I—I took six lives today." She covered her face unable to stomach the words. She wept for her actions and the deaths of the traitors. She sobbed in despair of the disgust injecting itself in her very core. "I know that it was what needed to be done. I know I couldn't let them keep coming after me again, but I was tired. Everyone keeps hurting me. First Slimy Bengt, then Freja, and now Brenna! It would've continued! And I can't—I can't stand it, not anymore! Not again! But I feel horrible!"

Aghi rested both hands atop her head, careful not to hurt her. "Then you should cry it all out."

"I'm disgusted with myself! This isn't like me!" she cried into her hands. "I should've found another way, but I was just so angry! I asked her please, but she wouldn't listen. She tried to kill me! I could've talked to her. I could've told her she was wrong."

"You will have to make difficult decisions that won't always feel right, but that, I think, is part of what it means to be a leader," said Aghi. "You are our leader and we will not love you less for preserving your life. Half of the Castle Guard would be lost without you. I would not be here without you. I would be dead in a ditch somewhere, but you saw me and saved me. You won me over, but that will not apply to everyone."

Asta broke down, shamed by her display of emotions.

Aghi finished washing all of the blood from her hair. He picked up a towel and handed it to her, gathering her sullied clothes from the ground as she got out of the bath. Asta wrapped the towel around her body.

He stayed with her to mend her wound, bandaging her neck and her head. He combed out her hair and went on to let her rest her head on his lap until she cried herself to sleep.

Asta woke up in the middle of the night as Werner draped a blanket over her and Aghi. He smiled at her, reaching to take her hand into his and kissing it.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

She nodded.

"There are soldiers posted outside your door," he told her. "You have Aghi here. You won't be left unguarded again. I swear to you." He rubbed the soft skin underneath her left eye. "Goodnight, Asta."

"Goodnight, Werner."

* * *

_Theodora revealed the conditions in which she had seen her mother. The outrage was palpable among their foreign dignitaries, suffocating. Asta could only watch her father defend himself against the accusations. When the argument escalated, the princes and princesses were pushed into a room in the other side of the castle._

_Isolated in that room, Asta became answer to curiosities of her fellow royals._

_"So, is it true?" asked Octavia, the Princess of Baryon. She wore her bright red hair in a high ponytail that fell in thick heavy curls down her upper back; her heavily lashed eyes were brimming with curiosity. "Is your father keeping your crazy mother locked in the eastern tower?"_

_"Wow, Octavia, subtle," said Melik, lounging comfortably in a recliner made up of comfortable pillows and furs. He wore a deep emerald kaftan and his hair twisted into a bun at the base of his neck. _

_"What?" she complained. "It's a genuine question! I'm curious!"_

_"She isn't crazy," said Asta lowly, drawing the princess' eyes back to her face. "She's just sick. She'll get better."_

_"My mother told me she talks to ghosts."_

_"That's not true!" defended Asta._

_"Octavia, drop it," interjected Baron. The kaftan he wore was a deep blue shade with gold buttons. He sat by his brothers feet in the narrow space on the recliner. "None of us know the circumstances. We can't have an opinion."_

_"Queen Ingrid is the rightful ruler of this country," said Ilya, the brooding Prince of Nohr. He wore a slim fitting, deep gray jacket with a high collar and an embroidered design in black. His dark hair was combed back nearly. "If an injustice is being committed, the Cluster has a right to know."_

_"Shouldn't you be in there arguing with the rest of them?" demanded Octavia, shooting a pointed look at Melik._

_"I prefer babysitting all of you."_

_She bristled. "I do not need to be babysat!"_

_"Then you should have stayed with your mother," said Ilya._

_"And why are you here? You should've stayed back there too."_

_"I don't like it when people shout."_

_That quieted Octavia up immediately. She settled down into a seat where she eventually went onto befriend the wet nurse caring for the snoozing Sacha, the little Prince of Lorah._

_Nikias remained quiet, sitting in a chair in the corner of the room isolating himself from everyone. Melik and Baron were engaged in an odd conversation about tapestries from Balbadd, which they were torn about whether they loved or hated them._

_Ilya read a book to pass the time. Asta went to sit with Nikias afraid of letting him feel alone as he might have wanted in that corner, dwelling on consequences that were not his own. He looked down at her from his seat._

_"I'm sorry about my mother," he said softly. "She doesn't mean to be cruel."_

_"You don't have to apologize for her," said Asta, matching his low voice. "She shouldn't have used any of what happened as an excuse to hurt you. I don't know why my mama would say the things she did to your mom, but I know that she was just worried. My dad…he's…he's not—he's not very kind, but he cares about mama. He just wants her to get better."_

_"Do you think she is getting better in that tower kept under lock and key?" asked Ilya, turning the page of his book. He didn't look up. "Humans don't do well under captivity."_

_She knew he was right and she realized that she almost made excuses for her father. __"I know it isn't right," she stressed. "I wish it wasn't—"_

_"I don't think what Queen Theodora did was wrong," continued Ilya. "In fact, i believe she's doing your mother a favor by exposing your father's treatment of her. If she needs help, she will get it now. Nobody will stand seeing the true Queen of Ione imprisoned for the gain of an ambitious man."_

_The words the older boy imparted remained with her until they were told that the Festival would be suspended and they were all escorted to their respective rooms (and guest rooms) without allowing them contact with their parents. _

_Asta caught Aghi and Nero of Hassah in a dark corridor pressed up against each other and giggling. Outraged with jealousy, she disturbed their tryst and ordered Aghi back to the physician's care. He was so embarrassed he couldn't look her in the eyes, which amused Nero, who affectionately patted her head and smiled brilliantly at her. She swore her heart would beat out of her chest. He was so beautiful it should have been a crime. She waited at the end of the corridor, stomping her small foot until Aghi and Nero went their own separate ways, in opposite directions._

_"Princess," called the guard escorting her. "We should go."_

_She ran to her guard's side and she was returned to her room where Brita waited to prepare her for sleep. She was given a quick scrub down and dressed in a warm nightgown. Brita tucked her into bed and told her a quick story that put her to sleep._

_Asta fell back into a dark, cold dream—to a castle of overgrowth and shattered windows. She knew the dream would be a repetition of the last time. She decided not to wander as she had the first time because she would run into the decomposing woman. She wanted to avoid that, so she moved to the center of her bed and hiked the blankets up over her head. _

_The violent gusts rattled her windows. She heard the creak of the floorboards and winced. A guttural voice reverberated down the corridor outside of her door that made her blood run cold. The sheet she pulled over her head was slowly being pulled off her and she grabbed hold of it, trying to keep it on. _

_The sheet was ripped from her head and she watched it flutter to the ground. Across her bed, she saw an oak with a thick trunk with drooping branches dripping black slime. Underneath the shade and the eerie moonlight pouring into her bedroom, she saw a corpse lying bare. It was a woman's body, her limbs twisted, covered in leaves and mud._

_Her head snapped in her direction. Asta gasped._

_The woman's eyes were wide open. "Save me."_

_Asta's heart began to pound hard._

_"Asta, please. Help me."_

_The light shifted with the wind and she saw a red coloring to the woman's hair._

_Asta woke up in tears again. She felt so badly that she ran out of her room in the middle of the night and ran across the castle to the western tower because she couldn't go to her mother directly. She thought about asking her father if he would let her sleep with her for tonight if he knew she'd had a nightmare._

_She went inside his room and quietly called out to him. The king's quarters were enormous. His bed alone was gigantic, too large for one person alone—too big for two._

_He stirred and she was afraid he would be angry with her, but he raised his head._

_"Asta? Is that you?" he asked groggily._

_She felt bad for him as well, but remembered Ilya's words about him not being entirely blameless. She couldn't understand why it was that her father locked her mother up in the tower. He gave her reasons, but she didn't fully comprehend them. Her mother was scared, but she wasn't crazy. _

_"I want to be with mama," she told him. "Can I see her?"_

_"Your mother is resting." _

_He got out of bed and approached her at the entrance of his room. She started to cry because she had anticipated rejection. She was scared._

_He saw her weep under the soft light coming from the torches outside and crouched down to pick her up into his arms._

_"Did you have a bad dream?"_

_She nodded._

_Hákon yawned. "Very well. Let's go."_

_She wrapped her arms around his neck, grateful._

_Hákon took her to the eastern tower and left her at her slumbering mother's side. He brushed her hair back and kissed the top of her forehead. _

_"Goodnight, my little princess."_

_Asta wrapped herself around her mother after her father was gone. Her mother kissed her cheeks as soon as she realized she was at her side and chuckled softly._

_"Sorry for waking you, mama, but I had a bad dream."_

_"Tell me about it if you need to."_

_Asta told her all about her dream. The first one and the latest one she had experienced. Her mother listened carefully, brushing her fingers through her hair._

_"Maybe you need to help her," said Ingrid. "This woman in your dream."_

_"But she scares me."_

_"Sometimes we have to help scary people too." Ingrid pressed the tip of Asta's nose affectionately. "I know a little girl braver than the bravest knight. All you have to do is find your courage, go out there, and help whoever it is that needs your help. It is all right to be scared."_

{ **ii** }

The scouts Asta assigned to accompany Nikias to assess the current situation returned with valuable information. According to the scouts, a resurgence of Corrinean leaders thought to have died during the Battle of Atros were challenging the Kou Empire soldiers holding the capital with an army of common folk. Asta understood the instant she heard this update about the mainland that her only opportunity to end the war in Corrin would be there. The battle zone outside Atros was the place where her plan would need to be carried out, so she asked Nikias to call a meeting.

Nikias agreed.

Asta stood at the end of the table, across Nikias, with soldiers at either side of them. Baron stood to her left and Werner to her right. Agnes stood to Nikias' left and Aesop to his right. A map of Corrin displayed between them, marked with flags and pieces that represented the fighting factions and their armies.

The plan was to ambush Kouen. Nikias wanted to draw him back into the danger zones where his plan had a higher success rate, but Asta talked him out of it by calling it predictable with Baron and Werner's support to sway him, despite complaints from his commander.

They couldn't afford fighting in the danger zones where the death rate was higher. It would be easier for her to implement her plan outside of them knowing that she didn't have to account for larger casualties. There would be sacrifices. She knew that. She was prepared to face them. She was resolved with that idea.

Recalling Brenna's execution left an unfortunate taste in Asta's mouth, but she couldn't ignore the fact that changes occurred as a result. The soldiers that once derided her were no longer questioning her orders. They obeyed and guarded her diligently. She couldn't have asked for any more out of her army, but it bothered her to think that this incident was the reason they were doing it. She had wanted to earn their respect without having to kill someone to make it happen.

"We are safest here," insisted Aesop, pleading with his liege. "The instant we leave these zones, we endanger ourselves."

"Luring Prince Kouen won't decrease the amount of casualties that we'll suffer," argued Werner. "We have to consider the size of our armies. The Kou Empire is still receiving support from the soldiers posted in Ione. Their army is much larger than ours put together and vastly more impressive. They have magicians as well as magic tools and beasts that are foreign to us. Their commanding general is a metal vessel user. We cannot go into this war thoughtlessly. We cannot enter this fight believing that our small numbers could put a dent to his without a well-thought out plan. We simply can't."

"That is a very good argument, Senior Commander Tjäder, but if we fight outside of the zones, we will be at a disadvantage," stated Agnes. "The zones are protected and controlled by my magicians. We have an upper hand here."

"Kouen will not return to the zones a second time," said Asta. "It would be a foolish move on his part. There is nothing that he wants badly enough that he would risk coming here again."

"He wants this country and gaining the country means capturing me," added Nikias.

"He doesn't need to capture you, Nikias," said Asta. "The only reason Corrin is not his is the resistance in the cities surrounding Atros. There are people there still fighting for your crown and if we don't go out there to support them, your kingdom is as good as forfeited."

"We don't have the numbers to face them head on," stated Aesop.

"We have Baron's forces to act as support," she replied. "Once Melik implements his plan of assault, joins us with the rest of the Ionian army we will have a chance to overwhelm Kouen, or at the very least capture him. Of course, capturing him will require Melik and a good plan on his part."

"My brother has a solid counter against Prince Kouen," said Baron. "You won't have to worry there. We are prepared for your orders, Asta, whatever they may be."

Asta looked to Nikias for support, afraid his commander and head magician's recent protests would be enough to dissuade him. He stepped back away from the table and sighed deeply.

"Aesop, Agnes, you're under Asta's command for the upcoming battle."

Werner smiled at Asta, visibly happy for their victory in the meeting room. It had taken them quite some arguing to arrive to that favorable conclusion. Asta was relieved by it, but suppressed the urge to return Werner's smile given Aesop's harsh reaction to the order.

"You cannot be serious, your majesty," shouted Aesop. "Leaving the command to that neophyte—"

"You have received your orders, Aesop! Enough!" Nikias headed for the door. "Agnes, we're going!"

"As you wish, my prince,"

Agnes followed him closely.

Aesop wasted no time to confront Asta as she was preparing to exit. "Your plan will be our ruin!" he snapped. "Are you prepared to take responsibility for your actions?"

Although, Baron and Werner stepped in front of her protectively after faced with the Corrinean commander's aggression, she moved between them to stand before the threatening male. "I wouldn't have suggested it if I wasn't. Excuse me."

Asta carried on. Baron and Werner followed her after the dismissal of their respective soldiers.

The plan to betray Nikias was easier to propose than to carry out. She never imagined herself in any situation, but then again, others tended to solve her problems and make those sorts of decisions for her. She had been insignificant her whole life and had finally taken center stage.

Asta exhaled. She would need to grow accustomed to it. She had to fill the role.

The secret plan Asta and Baron developed was hard to discuss. They conveyed messages in code and in writing that ended up in the hearth as soon as they were read, their eyes never leaving the paper until it was nothing but embers. This meeting was the last part of the plan that needed to pan out. She was relieved she was able to convince Nikias to support the troops fighting near Atros.

It had taken considerable detail to conclude that they did and there were only a few other kinks that needed ironing out. Firstly, she and Baron shared a considerable amount of worry towards Agnes and the magicians that she commanded. Although, the small sect of magical fighters was under twenty, they possessed abilities that could easily trump their meager foot soldiers.

"You should be prepared to face Prince Kouen, princess," said Werner. She had yet to tell him about her alliance to Nikias being a lie, but the timing was never right. She trusted that he would understand why it had taken her so long to admit it to him.

She had written it down and carried the note with her all day having waited for the perfect opportunity to hand it to him in a casual manner. She raised the folded note up for him to see and handed it to him as he looked at her quizzically, taking it from her.

"Be sure that our soldiers are carrying their weapons and that the contents of this make it back to me."

"Yes, princess."

Before she went down the opposite hallway, with Baron excusing himself to speak to his soldiers, she turned to Werner fully, holding her hands clasped in front of herself. "I will be prepared to face him. You have nothing to worry about in that regard."

* * *

_The servants in the kitchen gathered around Asta and told her all about the restlessness of the castle. Brita argued with them saying that she was a child and that there were things that were supposed to be kept from her because she would misunderstand, but Melik and Baron showed up, standing together at the door, and stood up for her._

_"A princess has a right to the truth, Miss Grahn," said Melik, sauntering to them with a charming smile that made the women at Asta's back melt. _

_"She is too young," argued Brita. "This is something that could prove harmful to her if she's not able to completely understand what is being said or done."_

_"Do you not think that keeping these secrets is what is causing her harm?" asked Baron, joining his brother's side. He plucked a peach from the bowl of fruit presented to him by one of the younger cooks, a pale rosy-cheeked girl with big brown eyes. "Youth should not be an excuse to leave someone in the dark about issues that concern her more than they do any of us."_

_"And yet that did not stop you from being in attendance," snapped Brita, glaring viciously at the two princes._

_"Brita!" called Asta, worried that her tone of voice would be insulting to them. She reached out to grab her hand and tugged hard to get her attention. "You have to apologize."_

_"There is no need," said Melik. "We are but mere mortals with titles. It should not stop any one from expressing an opinion out of fear of retribution. A good leader listens to their people whether they are in the midst of a rage or in the cold hands of sorrow."_

_There was not one woman in the room that wasn't charmed by Melik's presence. A mysterious glow around him made Asta feel at ease. He shared it with his brother, though Melik's was brighter, more present. There was a deeper connection with him. She felt it like a breeze on her skin or a thought in her mind. _

_Brita no longer protested. She allowed Asta to be given that truth that the cooks and servants were so eager to tell, about what occurred that quiet morning as the clouds above them began to turn a bleak gray and overflow with water. It was not a wonderful story as Asta had initially imagined. The story was cutting, sharp as a knife. It left her with a bitter feeling bordering anger and kept her in silence as she slowly processed all of the confusing words, breaking them down until she understood them to some degree in her mind. _

_Theodora was as relentless as the lightning streaking the sky and explosive like the thunder when it rumbled, taking up every inch of the room with its frightening boom. She scandalized the rest of the royal guests over Ingrid's imprisonment and provoked enough unrest among the Cluster that it took Hákon welcoming them up the steps of the eastern tower under the supervision of the castle's physician for them to see that it was not cruelty that placed Ingrid in that room._

_Asta's heart ached with every detailed description of the event. Melik, having been present, talked about her mother seeming so at peace staring out the window, but being so tragically absent that he felt ashamed seeing the Queen of Ione in such a manner. Everyone attempted to make her speak, but Ingrid responded to no one. Theodora put her hands on her and had to be escorted out because the action had frightened Ingrid so much that she fled underneath the nearest table and would not emerge from it._

_Melik admitted that he regretted making the trip, saying that he felt pressured by Theodora to do so. He apologized to Ingrid and apologized to Asta._

_"We do not know the nature of your mother's state," continued Melik. "We have no right to an opinion if we have not lived with it for as long as you, your father, your soldiers, and your staff. What Theodora did was wrong and incredibly selfish."_

_Quick footfalls reached their ears and, as everyone inside the room turned to the entrance of the kitchen, Octavia rushed in. Her vibrant red hair fluttered around her face, falling in shallow waves when she halted, and her eyes were large with worry as they looked upon the audience before her. Her cheeks were flushed and she was out of breath. She gave the impression of someone that had been running around searching for something desperately._

_"Have you seen my mother?" asked Octavia._

_"I was with her this morning," said Melik. It was already late afternoon. "I haven't seen her since."_

_Octavia turned her attention to Baron._

_"I haven't seen her at all."_

_And then to Asta._

_"I haven't—"_

_Asta felt an invisible force push her from her stool to the ground. She hit the cold ground hard and everyone reacted, gathering around her as her body went cold and heavy. Her arms and legs weighed too much to be moved as they normally would. She stared at the blur of faces above her as the pain sunk into her like a cold, sharpened spear and watched them blend into the frightening, distorted face of the woman from her dreams. Her sullied body hovered above her like a ghost, her stained hair twisted like snakes all around her wan face, and her glowing eyes bore into Asta's, searing into it like a burning pike._

_The woman opened her mouth and Asta watched it hang at an odd angle, chunks of skin and muscle falling from it. Asta felt her pieces drip on her body, felt their unholy presence and her breathing hitched as a shudder coursed through her._

_"Help…" the woman spoke, her voice desperately broken, "There…me…I."_

_I can't. Asta couldn't move. _

_"There in the dark. There in the shadow. There in the blood. There amongst the trees."_

_No. I can't. She sealed her eyes shut and tried to make her go away by repeating to herself that she was not real. She was not there._

_"Help…me…"_

_The woman turned to smoke and vanished._

_Asta was startled to realize she had been rendered unconscious by the fall. She was back in her room, tucked in her bed. Brita was at her side. Asta asked about Octavia and Brita informed her that Melik and Baron went to help her when they were all able to confirm that Asta would be okay. As the image of the dead woman resurfaced in her head, Asta decided that she would not sleep._

_She would give up on it. Sleeping was the only way that the nightmares could get to her after all, but after her fall, she found it difficult to evade. Sleep took her back to the bleak castle, to the oak tree where she found the woman in a pool of black water rising to take her firmly by the arms again and demand help. She woke up several times throughout the night with the nightmare persisting._

_Asta swore at the start of the next day that she would not close her eyes once, not even to rest them. She would stay up all day and all night doing everything that she could to stay active. She already talked to the guards posted outside her door about the methods they used to stay awake and they were able to provide a few ideas that she could test. One man said he worked out a little, another said that he drank a potent tea, and one woman said she found distractions in her hobbies. _

_Asta had a lot of hobbies, so she was certain she could avoid sleep. Also, the Buhari brothers overheard what she was trying to accomplish and offered to keep her company on what they considered a fool's errand. The two brothers promised to convince the other royal children to join them, admitting that they felt Octavia needed a bit of a distraction. She asked after Octavia's mother, but heard that she had not been present for dinner, an upsetting revelation that made her heart ache for Octavia._

_Melik and Baron returned with Nikias and Ilya. They were using a large room with a huge fireplace. There were several chairs where they could sit and a soft rug in the middle of them. Asta's guards stood posted outside and inside along with theirs. Outside the rain turned violent, clashing noisily against the windowpanes and the strong wind rattled them. _

_"The wet nurse would not let us borrow Sacha," said Melik. "We invited her too, but she thinks we are too rowdy for the boy."_

_"Is Octavia okay?" asked Asta._

_"Octavia is a strong woman," said Ilya. "She needs time to herself."_

_"What about her mother?"_

_"King Hákon assigned troops to search for her. Chamberlain Bengt has the entire staff on alert around the castle," said Baron. "The few men that we brought along with us were mobilized to aid your father's."_

_"Corrin too," added Nikias, appearing proud of his contribution._

_"The same goes for Nohr," said Ilya._

_"The queen will be found," assured Melik._

_Everyone collectively hoped for the safe return of Aquila, the Queen of Baryon. Asta believed that they were all wondering why the queen would go missing and who would orchestrate it. She supposed it made better sense to the others, more than it did to her, but they weren't there to discuss it._

_"Now, why is it that you've decided to stay awake?" asked Baron._

_"Because if I don't go to sleep, I won't have scary dreams," explained Asta._

_"Have you been going to sleep on a full stomach?" asked Ilya, deadpan._

_Asta blinked up at him. It was odd to have such a question leave his mouth because he was always so serious. "No. I don't think I have."_

_"Hmm."_

_It was clear that Ilya didn't believe her._

_Melik snickered, only to be jabbed in the side by his brother's elbow. "What? That was cute."_

_Ilya glared at him. "It is a serious issue."_

_"I would not doubt it," said Melik soothingly. "Ilya the Strict would ever fool around."_

_"I do resent that title and I know I have you to thank for it."_

_Melik went to Ilya's side and dropped his arm across his smaller shoulders, drawing him closer. "You don't have to thank me. Not at all. It was my pleasure."_

_Ilya planted his hand flat over Melik's face and pushed him back. "Get away from me, you ridiculous man."_

_Asta watched Melik cling to Ilya and Baron tried to pry them away from each other, chastising his brother for his tomfoolery. She laughed heartily at them. They were being silly. Nikias joined her shortly. The two laughed for as long as it had taken the older princes to stop pushing and pulling each other._

_The night progressed as it had begun with the addition of games. Melik and Baron contributed an assortment of games to the night. Ilya brought his favorite pieces of literature and spent half the time trying to settle everyone down enough to read an excerpt from each. Melik eventually turned his complete attention on Ilya, pestering him mercilessly until the stalwart prince sat with his arms folded and a deep frown, silently steaming as Melik read one of his novels in a dramatic voice that had everyone roaring with laugher._

_Nikias entertained Asta personally. He told her funny jokes he had heard from his father when he was younger that made her giggle into her hands. He described Corrin at her request and talked about his younger sisters._

_"Eris was supposed to come with us, but mother punished her for misbehaving," he told her, unaware the Buhari brothers were listening with large grins plastered on their faces. "You would've gotten along well with Eris if she had come."_

_"That's okay, isn't it? She has the rest of her life to get along with Princess Eris since you two will be married as soon as Asta reaches the appropriate age," said Baron._

_"As a wise man once said," started Melik, looking up at Ilya with a smile. He was lying on his side with his cheek on the palm of his propped up arm, holding his upper body at an angle off the fur rug. "The purpose of the festival was to unite Ione and Corrin, after all."_

_Nikias and Asta sighed in response of the reminder. She wanted to marry someone that she loved and chose. She wanted the same for Nikias and hoped he wanted the same for her._

_"That was said before Queen Theodora called it off," said Ilya. "You were aware of it as well. We arrived here for a similar purpose as well. Have you found a suitable bride within the Cluster, Melik?"_

_Melik turned away, his smile faded a bit. "Marriage and family life is for Baron," he said, pushing his brother's arm lightly with his foot. "I won't marry."_

_"Do you not owe your country an heir as its crown prince?" asked Ilya._

_"I was not born to lead Hassah."_

_"By right of birth, the crown is yours, Melik," said Nikias._

_"We don't choose our leaders by right of birth," replied Melik. "The most suitable candidate among the royal children will earn the crown as our mother did among her brothers."_

_Baron smiled._

_"Are you not the most suitable leader?" asked Ilya. "The greatest warrior and the greatest mind of Hassah, is that not what you are known for in the Cluster? Are you not a chosen one, Melik?"_

_Melik looked to Ilya. "For now. I don't doubt that my siblings have what it takes to one day surpass me. I may be worthy now, but I will not later."_

_"What if you stay worthy for the rest of your life?" asked Asta, curious by the sudden seriousness of the conversation and the opportunity to contribute to it. "I think someone like you should be king. You will be good at it."_

_Melik smiled. _

_Ilya wasn't pleased with Melik for the rest of the night. Asta worried that someone might have offended him and tried to apologize if they did, but he offered her a rare smile and said that he was only angry because Melik was an idiot._

_Asta tried hard for the rest of the night to stay awake, but as the others around her fell asleep one by one, she caved and sank into the darkness of the thunderous castle._

_It didn't matter if she moved or if she ran all around the castle, the woman would find her with her disfigured face and twisted limbs. With black grime caked in her reddish hair and eyes the color of fading light, the woman would reach to touch her. She would be blistering cold and dead._

_She didn't run that time. She didn't even shut her eyes. She quaked as the thunderstorm boomed in the blackened skies above the old castle. Each crackle of thunder made her jump, but it wasn't until a hand grabbed her ankle that her heart leapt into her throat._

_"Help…there…"_

_Asta woke up with a scream and a sharp pain around her ankle. Everyone around her rose up from their sleeping positions immediately, quick to respond when they realized she had screamed. She kicked off her blankets and looked down at her ankle. There was nothing there but a cold touch._

_"The trees," she whispered, breathing unevenly. "In the trees. There. She is there."_

_"Who is?" asked Ilya._

_"What are you talking about?" asked Nikias._

_Melik raised his hand, grabbing her attention. "There in the trees? What happened?"_

_"What did you see?" asked Baron._

_Asta began to cry, bombarded with more questions until she grew more frightened. She overcame enough of her fright to describe her recurrent dream to them. Each Prince, one after the other, assured her that everything would be okay, same as her mother told her but not before she said the woman in her dreams needed help. She told them that as well._

_"Do you know anyone that would need help?" asked Ilya, who was humoring her for being young. He seemed reluctant to believe that her nightmares were representing anything other than the childish fears of a child._

_Someone that needed help, she contemplated. Yes, she knew someone that could need it._

_"The Queen of Baryon," she said softly, recalling the dance from the first day of the festival and the queen's beautiful bright red hair. Red like that woman's hair only covered in grime—it was the queen. _

_No._

_No it wasn't._

_She refuted it. She cursed the thought from her mind as she glared holes into the blanket on her lap._

_"Queen Aquila?" questioned Melik, looking to his brother._

_"Are you certain that is who you saw?" asked Baron._

_Perhaps it was the way that Baron phrased his question that frightened Asta the most because there was an implication that she definitely, without a doubt in anybody's mind, _saw_ something that was happening and not some weird manifestation of her mind as her dreams had often been described as being. _

_She was scared. Plain and simple. She also, didn't want to talk about it because that meant revisiting her nightmare and it was hard enough to stay awake out of fear of that woman's pale, rotting face appearing every time she closed her eyes. She convinced herself as she stared at the four princes in front of her that her nightmares didn't mean a thing. They were dreams. Just dreams. Bad ones, but they were nothing more._

_"No." Asta forced a laugh. "It was just a dream. It was scary one, but only just a dream."_

_"Are you sure?" asked Melik._

_She nodded._

_"And you're okay?" asked Nikias._

_"I will be. The nightmare won't happen again."_

_If only that had been the case, Asta would not have felt as if she were going crazy having the same dream on repeat._

_Nights were becoming more and more difficult to bear. The search for the Queen of Baryon spread throughout the kingdom and several groups were forming to aid in her search, but it was growing increasingly more and more impossible for the queen to be found. Until she was located, everyone was to remain grounded in Ione. _

_Octavia made it known to Asta and the other Cluster princes that her father had already been contacted on the matter and that he would be sending people to aid in her search as well. Asta was saddened by Octavia's situation, but she admired her strength and wondered endlessly how she managed to stay so poised in front of everyone._

_Asta wanted that strength._

{ **iii **}

Asta stepped upon the wide bridge where she had betrayed Kouen with her army and allies at her back. Nikias had gone on ahead with a few others to scope out the field.

The bridge had been destroyed last time, but the magicians had built it back together with ease.

Werner handed her the bow and quiver of arrows taken from her when she had been a prisoner. He was serious. He knew what they were going to do. He was made aware of the betrayal.

"You must do it," said Werner. "Strike."

"I can't," she said, realizing he meant strike Nikias in the middle of the battlefield as they had planned someone would need to do. There were soldiers willing to volunteer for the job in Baron's army.

"It can't be anyone else. You can do it quickly and swiftly without giving his guard time to react. You can immobilize him without killing him."

She was hesitant to take the weapon but he thrust it at her more firmly.

"You will not lose strength now, princess. You _cannot_."

Asta took it. She was losing more of her confidence as her nerves worsened. They had better bowmen in their army that could accomplish what needed to be done. It had been Baron and Werner's job to find that person. She never anticipated that they would settle on her. She had no confidence in her ability. She stopped practicing so long ago when she met Johan that going hunting had been an excuse to spend time with him without the actual hunt.

She deliberately allowed her skill with the bow dull. She placed more importance in Johan than becoming the leader that her country needed. She gave up.

She had given up on her people then.

She couldn't do it again. She couldn't continue to make it more and more difficult for them to adapt to new circumstances. She didn't know how she'd explain herself to them after showing her support in conquering the rest of the Cluster. Would her people understand that she was doing it for them? Even so, that did not make her feel better. Telling them she was sacrificing millions of other lives to ensure their survival because she was still giving up so many others to make it happen.

"Okay," Asta told Werner.

That was all.

Werner left her side to distribute orders to the commanders under his authority and she waited patiently atop her horse for Nikias' return. She held onto her bow and quiver of arrows tightly, her hands shook. She was nervous about using it, of nocking an arrow, pulling back the string, aiming, firing it, and the arrow embedding itself in its intended target.

She saw it play out in her mind. She felt it tingle in her fingertips like anticipation. Her stomach twisted into millions of tiny knots. Her heart ached as if someone were squeezing it with their hand—snuffing the life out of her slow and painfully.

"Prince Nikias has returned, princess," said Aghi, mounted on a horse beside her. He gestured in Nikias' direction with his chin.

Asta watched Nikias and Aesop gallop towards their stationary troops. She closed her eyes briefly and took a breath.

She told herself that it would all be over soon.

According to Nikias and Aesop's newly acquired information, the troops were fighting in the outskirts of Tesse. Baron and his army took a different route out of the danger zones to meet them at the site of the battlefield without alerting Kouen's army.

The plan was to draw Kouen out with Melik at his side, which meant fighting until they showed up. Nikias and Asta were the bait. Melik would do his job in betraying Kouen and killing him (or capturing him). There were more soldiers on the Kou Empire's side and they doubted that even if their general fell, they would drop their weapons, so Baron was supposed to come to their aid then, unless Melik appeared to be struggling to kill Kouen, Baron wasn't allowed to mobilize early.

Werner and Aghi rode close to her. Asta stole glances at Nikias riding atop a pale horse in gold plated armor. His silver hair was windswept and sparkling under the strong sunlight. Agnes and Aesop were so close to him that Asta was starting to feel more and more anxious about what she would have to do.

She could see Corrinean banners waving in the distance as war cries echoed loudly from the center of the crowd of warring factions. White banners with a snowdrop flower crest fluttering opposite of the Kou Empire's banners.

Nikias gave the order to charge forward and swarms of soldiers from his army shouted proudly before rushing into the fray. Beside her, Werner ordered the Ionian troops to join them and as he finished giving the order, he cast a look in her direction and nodded.

The signal.

Asta drew an arrow from the quiver at her side and nocked it, drawing back the string as she raised the bow. She watched the relief wash over the Corrinean people still fighting faithfully for their country. She saw their eyes light up when they laid eyes on their true king, who appeared to them like a signal from god—silver encased in golden light.

Agnes was too close. Aesop went on ahead into the middle of the fighting, sword ready to slay every enemy in his path. There were soldiers all around Nikias, but she only worried about one.

Her hands were shaking as she raised her bow and took aim at an empty patch of grass ahead of her. She watched soldiers clash in the battlefield, saw a number of them bloodied and desperate, and witnessed the slaying of several. There were casualties on both sides. She wanted to have a voice loud enough to stop the fighting altogether, to prevent any more deaths.

She steeled herself.

Asta caught a glimpse of Agnes leaving Nikias side at the same time she heard that more troops were coming to the Kou Empire's aid, led by Melik. This was what they had all been waiting for.

Nikias left Agnes' line of sight for a split second. Asta pulled back the string as far as it would go, her arm wailed in protest from the strain on her sore muscles, but she tugged a little more.

She took aim at Nikias and released the arrow. As she did, she felt the bowstring snap and slap her hard across her face. Asta fell off her horse, slammed hard into the ground, as she heard Agnes shout.

"Prince Nikias!"

"Princess!" shouted Aghi, coming up next to her as she agonized from the searing pain across her face. Her vision was red from the blood pouring from her wound.

"She shot him! The princess shot him down!"

"We saw her! She did it!"

"She tried to kill our prince!"

"You traitorous c—"

Asta felt a hand wrap around her hair when Aghi sprung to his feet and thrust his sword upward into the throat of the Corrinean soldier that had reached her first. His blood dribbled over her face, warm and thick—the life leaving his body. He made a horrible sound as Aghi retracted his blade and shoved his body aside, taking Asta by the upper arm to lift her.

"PROTECT ASTA!" ordered Werner.

She was surrounded by her people. They were protecting her.

"Capture Prince Nikias!" shouted Asta, standing firm on shaky legs. "I want him alive!"

"Yes, your majesty!"

* * *

_On the fifth day since the search began, one of the servants found sheets stained with blood. They were the same ones that had disappeared on the same day Queen Aquila had, the ones from her bedroom._

_On the seventh day, Asta dreamed her nightmare more vividly than the first time and woke up with the sudden urge to go outside, but the darkness scared her too much to act upon the impulse._

_The entire kingdom had been searched on the eleventh day. They had received the help of extra soldiers from Baryon. Octavia finally broke down and in the middle of dinner, she demanded her mother back. She slammed her small fists on the table, knocking over the wine in her goblet, and flipped her plate of food over before storming out in tears. Asta chased after her, heart pounding wildly in her chest because she made a strange connection after Octavia's explosive display._

_She caught up to her after Octavia gave her the opportunity to do so by stopping. Guilt seized her tiny body, making Asta shake uncontrollably and cry inconsolably as she began to apologize to Octavia. Again and again and again, but no matter how many times she sobbed out the words "_I'm sorry_" in broken syllables, it didn't lessen the ache she felt in her chest. _

_Octavia turned to her with a curious look in her watery eyes and she bent down on one knee before Asta, looking up at her. They were both crying. She did it silently with the same strength that Asta admired. Asta was noisier, a child still at only nine._

_"You didn't do anything," said Octavia. "Why do you need to be sorry?"_

_"Because she's told me she's there by the trees and I didn't listen!" sobbed Asta. "I'm so scared of her and I never listened! They found blood in the sheets!"_

_Octavia's eyes widened. "What?"_

_Asta felt her body leave the ground when Melik picked her up. "She's been having nightmares about your mother asking her for help," he explained, knowing that there was nobody else around listening to their conversation. "She's wanted to help so badly, I think it's normal for her to have dreams about it."_

_Octavia slowly rose from her kneeling position. She dried her tears and smiled bitterly. She caught one of Asta's tears as it slipped from her eye and wiped it away gently._

_"Thank you for worrying so much," said Octavia, "even though I was so rude about your mother's situation."_

_Seeing Octavia so sad made Asta want to do something about it. She didn't know what that was exactly, but she was going to do it. She was going to help Octavia and her mother reunite. _

_That night, Asta had gone to sleep determined. She had fallen into her dark dream, had woken on the cold, dusty ground, and had gasped for air as she had come to her senses. She had risen from the floor and rushed out of the door to search for the oak tree growing in the middle of the hallway and the frightening woman asking for help._

_The castle's corridors were longer than she recalled. She turned one way and ended up in a different place, opposite of where she needed to be. She ran around in circles, up and down stairs, and started running into dead ends that didn't exist in her castle. She stopped for a moment to catch her breath._

_Asta looked up and saw a door. She surveyed her surroundings and saw mirrors on both sides. She saw two different reflections. In one, she was herself and in the other, there was an old woman with stringy hair. She jumped back after seeing the strange woman and scrambled into the room before she could say something to her._

_Inside, she slipped on something wet and fell flat on her face into warm liquid. _

_There were candles on every surface with a few on the floor that flooded the room with light. She raised her upper body and head to look around. She was in Queen Aquila's quarters. It was decorated in velvet and reds. There were clothes strewn across the bed that belonged to a man._

_Asta got off the floor, standing on her feet and glanced at the black liquid staining her hands and clothes briefly. Her attention was drawn to the man's clothes. She picked them up and knew they were familiar to her. They were Ionian styled clothes, but not military or Castle Guard. They looked like long robes. _

_The door slammed open behind her, hitting hard against the wall. A cold wind swept into the room and blew out all the candles leaving her in darkness. She breathed out and a cloud of smoke came out. The room was suddenly freezing._

_"Prin…cess…As…ta."_

_She jerked around. Outside the room in the hallway, she saw the body of a woman, limbs twisted, submerged in a pool of black water in front of an oak tree with drooping branches. Behind it, a portrait of her father was on the wall._

_Asta swallowed hard. She told herself not to be afraid, dropped the clothes in her hands, and started walking towards the woman._

_"Where are you?" she asked upon reaching her side._

_"There…" the woman's guttural voice echoed in the dark. "There…I am…there."_

_She raised a bony hand and pointed to Asta's left. There was a window at the end of the corridor and Asta followed it to look outside to the sea of trees that made up the Hult Province. Cold hands grasped her shoulders and freezing breath hit the side of her face making Asta go stiff with fear._

_"Find me…there…"_

_"But we already searched the—"_

_Asta had woken from the dream in a sweat._

_The following day, she told her father that they should look in the Hult Province. He repeated to her what she had tried to tell the woman before in her dream, saying that they had been thoroughly searched and that nothing had been found. He told her that they would be wasting resources if they did again._

_Asta didn't give up. She refused. She went to everyone, to the kings and queens and asked them to go search the forests, but they refused for the same reason her father had given her._

_It was easy for her to see that after two weeks of searching with no results that they were exhausted. Her father was blamed for the lack of security within the castle, but Melik and all of Nohrian royalty stood up for him. At that point, everyone was looking for someone to blame._

_On the fourteenth day, Slimy Bengt found a note written by Aquila to Octavia. Trembling, Octavia read it aloud and cried as her mother told her that she would be running away. She was in love with someone and she admitted to using the Byzen Festival to escape. Within a matter of hours, there were witnesses that claimed to have seen someone resembling the queen at the docks, leaving on one of Caj Öman's trading ships. It explained her missing clothes and items—Asta learned about those from Ilya when the witnesses started talking about her leaving. _

_Everyone was done by the sixteenth day, but Asta continued to tell everyone that the letter was a lie. Nobody believed her. At least, she thought nobody did when Melik and Baron asked her where Aquila was._

_That night, Asta, Melik, Baron, and, surprisingly, Ilya snuck out of the castle with a few of their trusted guards at their backs and Vilhelm, Carina, and Sigge posted in different areas where they would be able to get a signal to them in case someone went searching for any of them. They borrowed horses from the stables with Asta's help and a bit of Melik's charm and galloped into the Hult Forests in search of the oak tree that she recalled ever more vividly in her mind as the cold, wet wind swept across her cheeks._

_There had been a light drizzle when they first left the castle, but the rain quickened as minutes turned to hours. _

_Asta was soaked to the bone exhausted and about to give up. They searched everywhere and found nothing. She clung hard to the reins of her horse and felt desperation bubble in the pit of her stomach. _

_"Asta," called Ilya. "Here!"_

_She and Baron galloped to meet him. A few feet away sat a powerful oak with roots sticking out around it and thick branches that dropped. They were dripping from the rain._

_Melik had already dismounted and started to dig with one of the spades they brought with them, piling the mud at the base of the tree. One by one, they all joined him, leaving their horses to their guards who were ordered to stay put and wait in case there was a warning signal. Baron and Ilya helped Melik dig as Asta watched in horror._

_The rain was pounding hard against her back, turning the ground to black mud._

_She heard Melik curse and the other two princes fell silent._

_Asta approached and saw the rain wash away the mud caked in her hair, revealing its once vibrant color dull in the moonlight. Her knees gave out on her and she fell onto them._

_"It's Queen Aquila," confirmed Ilya. He was crouched down beside the shallow grave to inspect the body. He looked up to Asta, in the same manner that Melik and Baron were, with a hint of fear._


	27. (09) Black Snake - Pt 4

**BLACK SNAKE** | BRITA GRAHN

| **i **|

Freja used one of Cilla Strand's many warehouses for the rebellion's next gathering. The meetings were occurring with more frequency. That woman had a mission and it entailed destroying her niece by any and every means possible.

Her fury had not abated with Asta's absence, it had exacerbated—reached boiling point. She had enlisted the infamous Slimy Bengt to their cause and had been paying him handsomely in gold, wine, and women. She had run dozens of smear campaigns against Ren Kouen using Brita's word to fuel the anger of the gullible masses. She had flamed the embers of hate across Ione to all that would listen and cursed the Kou Empire for its savagery.

Brita admired Freja's fortitude. It wasn't every day that one worked for someone with so much self-importance it was embarrassing to watch, but Brita did and the least she owed Freja was her loyalty. She definitely questioned her methods and her sanity on occasion, but she supposed the resistance could do without a formidable leader for now.

Initially, Freja wanted to make Asta into one of her puppets. She planned to get close enough to her that she'd listen to all the little nothings she whispered in her ear and that once they'd accomplish what needed to be done, she'd dispose of Asta and claim the throne for herself. By then the people would be so brainwashed, she'd be the obvious choice for queen.

That had been before Freja decided to lose her cool and slap Asta off her horse in front of many witnesses. Any respectable leader with half a brain would've imprisoned her for her impertinence or, according to Ionian law, execute her for harming a member of the royal family. Asta had demoted her, kicked her out of the Ionian House—the position that solidified her power as a noble of Ione.

Freja being Freja did what she felt she needed to do. She had discarded all of her plans using Asta and begun working on a more sinister plot to have her murdered. She had enlisted the help of every mole she had in Corrin and Prince Nikias, who had accepted to continue the pact she had made with his mother before Theodora had been murdered. Both Kouen and Asta were in the center of a few murder plots devised by Freja.

Speaking of murder, confirmation of Asta's should've already reached them.

Brita waited seated in the warehouse's office and watched Freja pace back and forth. Kay Åkerman stood leaning against the desk, his large body partly blocking Brita's view of Freja from her chair.

"Falk should've gotten back to us already," said Freja. "She's not the sort to laze about after she's made the proclamation she did. She wouldn't go back on her word either. This makes no sense. This is unacceptable!"

"Complications can occur," said Kay, "or perhaps, she hasn't found a good opportunity to send news."

"She is never this late," stated Freja. "A few minutes, an hour I'll forgive, but it's been days without a new update. Falk is never so irresponsible."

"Maybe she got caught," suggested Brita.

Freja halted to glare at her. "Shut you peasant mouth, girl."

Brita rolled her eyes. "It would make better sense than to stand here anxious waiting for a response that will never come. If she's been caught, she's been caught. We can only hope that she didn't open her big mouth and spill all of your secrets."

"Who would believe the word of a lowly soldier?" asked Kay. "Even if she did confess and the princess believed her to the point she came searching for answers to Tjäder Hall, she would not find any incriminating evidence."

"Only your attitude and long history of hatred towards the royal line, of course," added Brita. "It isn't hard to manipulate the princess, Lady Tjäder. Show her a little kindness and she'll be yours."

Freja stomped to Brita and seized her by the front of the shirt, forcing her off her seat. "Are you so determined to die, Brita Grahn? Do I need to remind you that your failure with Ek is the reason that we are here in the first place?"

Brita grabbed Freja's hand tight. "You let King Hákon kill Johan."

Freja released her harshly. "Are you still angry about that? He was lazy with his cover! He dug his own grave! You could see how obvious it was that he had already grown bored of seducing the princess! He was no man in love as he should've been and—"

"He was valuable!"

"Arguing amongst ourselves is meaningless," said Kay, cutting in between them. "You must remain a pillar, my noble lady, as the country will one day come to rely on you. That day will be upon us soon." He turned to Brita with the same cheer he used to speak to Freja. This giant man was deceptively friendly, easy-going on the outside, and a disgusting pervert on the inside. "And you, Brita, think about how hard it was for you to make it this far. You overcame all odds and survived. It is as you say, Johan was an incredibly valuable asset to our cause and would've remained so had we saved him from his fate. I tried to speak to King Hákon, but pressing too hard would've given me away. He was not a man to argue with, you knew that better than anyone. Johan Ek is no more and we must move forward on our quest for a better Ione."

Brita and Freja separated, moving to dally on opposite sides of the small room.

The door opened noisily and as Bengt entered, Brita caught a glimpse of the crowd awaiting one of his famous speeches.

"Where have you been?" demanded Freja.

"I was working out a few kinks in my speech," said Bengt, insulted she would even ask. He noticed Brita standing on the other side of the room, arms folded, and frowning at him. "Here again, harlot? You spoil my image, _shoo_."

He waved her away as if she were a dog.

"Do you think I'm here for you?" asked Brita, approaching him. "Why would I need to be seen by the likes of a parasite like you? I'm here of my own volition to make this country a better place to inhabit after you successfully ruined it alongside King Hákon, you filthy sewer rat, not because my old master died and I'm trying to live sucking the toes of a new one."

"You're an insufferable bitch."

"Why don't you find you way back out there and start sucking ass, you miserable fool?"

"I've had enough of your squabbling!" snapped Freja, and gestured them over. "Get away from the door, the both of you!"

Brita and Bengt walked to her to stand around her with Kay putting himself between them to prevent more quarrels. The three formed a half circle around Freja. Brita didn't understand why Freja insisted in lowering herself down to accept someone like Bengt on her side. He was deranged. He was an awful human being, the lowest of the low. He served whatever master suited him best.

Freja was just another stepping-stone for him.

"Falk hasn't reported back to me," started Freja, "but I received word that the Hassahan princess arrived to Corrin earlier than anticipated. Lorahian and Nohrian forces are on their way to support Prince Nikias. Taking on three countries will be more difficult to maneuver than one. It will buy us enough time to amass enough support to start our own rebellion before the prince or princess returns to Ione, but if all went as it was supposed to, Falk disposed of the princess, which would make me next in line for the Ionian throne."

"It would be in our best interest indeed for the princess to return dead," commented Bengt.

"You are pathetic," spat Brita. "Afraid of a little girl for—"

"Go to the divinators—the ones that read fate in small animal bones and fire—and they will tell you that that little girl is no girl at all. She is a beast come forth from the underworld that will reopen the gates of destruction to swallow humanity whole," retorted Bengt, passionate. "She is a girl with a black shadow at her back. She carries strength inside of her that she has used against me!"

Brita laughed. "I never took you to be so superstitious that you'd consult with those wannabe magicians at the market. Look at him, Lady Tjäder, this is the man in whom you have placed your trust. A fanatic afraid of one little girl."

"Be that as it may," started Freja, "that fanatic has drawn in more support for our cause than you have. If he wants to believe Asta is the second coming of the devil, let him."

Erratic knocking disturbed the tense silence. Brita went to answer the door and a man pushed past her as the crowd outside started to chant for Bengt. Lauding his newfound fame, Bengt excused himself to attend to his people and the excitement outside reached a fever pitch. Furious, Brita slammed the door shut, but it hardly dulled the sounds of the crowd.

"What is it?" asked Kay, handing the man a glass of water.

The man that had entered was struggling to catch his breath. He took the water and drank swiftly, cleaning his mouth with the back of his hand. "News from Corrin, my lady and lord," he began, taking a breath after each word. "Falk and her men are dead, executed for treason."

"And the princess?" demanded Freja.

"Alive," the man spilled, "but in poor condition it seems."

Freja raged in silence, her gloved hands clenched so tight it looked painful.

"And the Silver Prince?"

"The princess betrayed him. Shot an arrow straight through him during the battle."

"She killed him?" snapped Brita.

"The details weren't clear. The information transmitted to us was broken up. It seems Hassah went to Corrin to aid the princess and betrayed the prince. However, our contact has assured that your backup plan will not fail you. The princess and prince will be dead before your next correspondence, so you should keep strong on this side, Lady Tjäder."

"Then we have no more time to waste," said Kay. "We should not allow a few bumps in the road to skew our determination. We have the people's ears, so let us continue to speak pleasantries to them and win them to our cause. The Kou Empire's army here will not stand a chance."

"Return to your station, soldier," ordered Freja.

"Yes, ma'am," the man said, saluting and rushing out the door.

Outside, Bengt was giving the people a different version of the Johan speech and had the people fooled into booing the princess' name each time she was mentioned. A naïve child, so easily deceived by the sweet words of a kind man, should not be queen. Birthright meant nothing in the warrior kingdom. The people, though seemingly domesticated by the ways of the Byzen Cluster, still had Io's blood running through their veins. They were warriors still. For that reason nobody had questioned Hákon's rule until all that power went to his head. For that same reason, they would eventually fall under the spell of the powerful Kou Empire.

Asta would not have made an adequate ruler. Her father made sure to raise her sheltered so that she'd never pose a threat to his rule, but that didn't mean he did not fear her potential. Asta was a sheltered girl—a dreamer that believed peace was achievable through the powerful speeches of a leader—that wanted so desperately to be loved. She was. Loved by the Castle Guard loyal to her and the people that saw her as their future. Brita occasionally wondered if it would bring her joy to see all of that love disappear, to watch the princess crumble—watch her wither the same way that her mother had, crazed and imprisoned in her own castle.

Brita lowered her gaze to the floor, overcome by a twist in her chest.

"Brita, go to Byquist and bring me back his progress," ordered Freja.

"Yes, Lady Tjäder."

Brita exited the room and moved along the walls of the crowded warehouse. She exited through one of the side entrances and looked down both paths of the empty dirt road. She took a right, headed towards the back of the warehouse and turned, halting instantly upon coming face to face with the owner of the unit.

Cilla Strand straightened from her leaning position against the wall. The small woman sensuously flicked her hair back, away from her tanned face, and approached Brita, who stepped back with each of her advancements. When Cilla stopped, amused, Brita did as well. Of all the leaders of the Ionian House, Cilla Strand was amongst the most dangerous.

"You're adorable, Miss Grahn," said Cilla, laughing in amusement. "Where are you going?"

"Home," said Brita, straightforward. She couldn't manipulate herself out of this conversation. "Please excuse me, Lady Strand."

Brita walked past Cilla with her head down.

"You wouldn't happen to be using my property to amass an army, would you?" asked Cilla aloud, forcing Brita to halt. "That is treason against the crown. Not to mention, knowledge of it taking place here, in my own backyard, would look rather suspicious of me, would it not? So, should not the obvious thing for me to do be report it? To the Kou Empire's Prince Koumei?"

Brita whirled around, prepared to dart back into the warehouse to warn Freja, but Cilla came at her with a swift punch to the stomach that knocked the wind out of her. She sank to her knees on the hard ground and heard the rustling of Cilla's clothes as she crouched down to join her on the floor, her hand snaking around the back of Brita's head, snatching her by the hair. Cilla forced Brita's head back. Brita grunted, her arms wound tight over her aching body, shaking.

"I thought I had made it clear to you upstarts," said Cilla, voice lowered and sweet. So sickly sweet that it made Brita want to hurl. "Nobody was to lay a hand on the princess, but that seems like too much to ask of savages."

"You hateful w—"

Cilla smiled wickedly. "You know, it's a shame we couldn't become friends, Miss Grahn." The woman leaned forward to lick up Brita's cheek. Brita flinched with disgust. "You are definitely my type. Oh well."

Brita was thrown to the floor so hard she hit the side of her head and felt it throughout her body. A short distance ahead, she saw soldiers from the Kou Empire led by a man with long purple hair and a helmet that covered his eyes.

"Chuu'un, Lady Tjäder and Lord Åkerman are inside," said Cilla, stepping out of the way. "This one here is Brita Grahn. She's the one that's been spreading lies about his majesty our future king."

With a silent gesture, Chuu'un sent two soldiers to pick her off the ground before she had the chance to escape and warn her lady and lord. Brita struggled against her captors and cursed Cilla's very existence in her mind as she saw a smile curl her violet-tinted lips.

"You'll never get what you want!" shouted Brita. "No matter how much you try to win favors, you'll never get what you want."

"No matter, it is infinitely more satisfying to see you bottom feeders get what you deserve," said Cilla. She blew her a kiss. "Bye, bye, my sweet. You should choose your master better next time—oh wait, that was rude, you'll be dead, but that's okay, you'll be able to rejoin your beloved Johan. Say hello to him for me."

"Fuck you!"

**BLACK SNAKE **| END


	28. (10) Water Grave - Pt 1

**TEN**: Water Grave

* * *

**Corrin**

_The Shield._

Providing support within the Byzen Cluster falls under jurisdiction of the Kingdom of Corrin. They boast the second largest military in the Cluster and have a responsibility to aid Ione if the need ever arises. Their military is specially trained in supportive tactics with a focus in the medical field and long-range fighting. Close-range combat is taught, but is reserved for the highly skilled members that are a part of a special branch of soldiers trained separately to serve as an elite force said to rival the Nine Commanders of the Ionian Army.

Corrin will mobilize to aid any army in need of it within the Cluster, that is to say they are not specifically reserved to aid Ione. Most times, they are the first on the scene when aid from Ione is requested, as the first to assess the situation.

* * *

**xl**: One week later and it's an update. This is miraculous development, I swear, because updates for this story don't happen this quickly. Given the length of each chapter, they really can't, but enjoy the new chapter regardless.

Thank you to **Hakuryuukun**, **grimxichixshiroxmomoxorixx**, **Papillon Mystre**, **Lunime**, and **De hearts 26** for reviewing the previous chapter. I truly enjoyed reading your comments!

On a slightly relevant, but not so relevant note and think this over really well. I'm going to be asking the same question the next time I post a chapter, just cause I'm curious about the responses after I had someone make a comment about it in one of the chapters. But if there was a love triangle in Empress, Kouen x Asta x Other Guy, who would you want the other guy to be?

(Disclaimer, disclaimer, this story is strictly KouenOC, which means they're end game. So don't fret! Asta would never!)


	29. (10) Water Grave - Pt 2

**WATER GRAVE **|

{ **i** }

War.

Asta had never experienced war.

The callousness of it.

Violence in quick succession coming from every direction.

Blades flashing in the light of morning, clashing hard, ringing metal, sparks flying. Magic brightened the skies and scalded the earth.

Horses galloped, cried their inhuman cries, and fell wounded with their riders spilling blood, guts pouring out from the belly of the beast—sick pink, foreign anatomy.

Men and women, armed with spears, swords, staffs, and bows. Running each other through with their weapons, blood splattering, and bodies fallen lifeless, red soaking into the earth. Life left them like flecks of gold floating into the sky, vanishing in the winds that carried them. Agony clung to those with broken blades or arrows embedded in their bodies, twisted on the ground trampled by other soldiers—ally and foe alike. Their despair was a request for death, one final hit to end the pain. Slow, like time stopped, but watching them and seeing those fallen soldiers, limbs twitching, bodies wounded, it seemed to have done so.

No time to mourn. Time wasted meant death. The smallest mistake meant death. All the little details carried more weight.

Sacrifice.

Asta had made her mind up about sacrifices, but counting the dead—the amount was beyond her scope of consideration.

There in the midst of the battlefield, struggling with shaky, foreign hands to string her bow with blood reddening her vision, she learned there was no kindness in war. No mercy. A heart was useless in battle. Unfortunate, she thought, that she could not simply carve the appendage from her chest and hide in a box until she had the peace to process the grittiness of war. If she could put her emotions under lock and key, she might have steadied her hands long enough to string her bow as she had hundreds of times before, but her fingers were throbbing in pain and bleeding from all of her mistakes.

The three soldiers on the ground around her wouldn't have had to die protecting her.

Useless.

So utterly useless.

The war had ended with Asta on the floor failing to string her bow and five new bodies guarding her in death. Kouen found her in her sorry state as the last of her men dispersed to help capture the remaining soldiers after Baron's capture of Nikias had brought them to heel.

Kouen helped her back on her feet and walked away from her to greet the captured prince agonizing from the arrow sticking out of his shoulder. She had not expected a reaction out of him. Her mind was too busy buzzing with images of war—death and carnage—to care. Aghi was at her side talking into her right ear in a language that she could no longer comprehend.

Carina appeared shortly, filling her vision with her worried face. Carina took the bow from her and clasped Asta's bloodied hands. She spoke in the same tongue Aghi had before the world went black.

{ **ii** }

Asta regained consciousness in the warm tent she shared with her husband in a campsite ringing with celebration. She felt the familiar warmth of the brazier and the fur blankets piled atop her body. She raised her hands up to her eyes, turned them palm up then down again, searching for the cuts she recalled vividly in her mind. There was nothing. Not a scratch on them.

Her face didn't have any either, even though she recalled that the bowstring hit her hard across one side of the face, from above her left eyebrow down over her lips. Like a whip, it had seared off the skin and left her bleeding nonstop. She believed she passed out from the blood loss in the battlefield, but it could have also been because of the horrors she had seen.

The image in her mind was suddenly replaced by that of Theodora's crown disintegrating into dust when she touched it. She felt strange sitting up after that, but became aware of the light scratch of writing coming from the corner of the tent. Kouen sat behind that narrow desk crammed with maps and papers and books. Seeing him there dressed down in a simple robe with a pensive air about him, despite wearing the same serious face, made it feel as if nothing had happened.

She almost asked if she had a nightmare.

"Nikias?"

"He was detained alive as a result of your efforts and has since taken a vow of silence."

"His magicians and his army—what happened t—?"

"Detained."

"And my wounds…I had…more than…"

"Healed."

He didn't need to say obviously for his response to have been said as though he had.

Asta pushed the blankets away from her legs and went to the edge to stand up. Her legs were so weak that she stumbled after taking a step forward, falling on her knees. She stood up quickly and headed for the entrance.

"Asta."

She paused, turning.

"We need to talk."

Asta walked to the front of his desk wary of whatever subject he wanted to address.

Kouen stopped writing and offered her his full attention. "What are you?"

Agnes asked her the same question. Same as then, she provided Kouen with an unsatisfying response. "I'm—I'm normal."

"Are you versed in any type of magic?"

She shook her head.

"Tell me about the Queen of Baryon."

Asta breathed out and slowly returned to the side of the bed to sit. Melik must have told him to ask after that specific event to prove something, but what exactly. Wouldn't admitting to all of the things that went on in her head mean she was crazy? She didn't think Kouen would be too pleased to realize that he married a woman with a propensity for delusions.

"What happened with the Queen of Baryon was coincidental," she started. "It doesn't prove anything."

Kouen stood up and went to her. "Tell me about it."

She told him everything she possibly could about Queen Aquila, starting from the last Byzen Festival eight years ago. She explained its purpose for a while, afraid of telling him about how early her dreams had begun, but she divulged it. She revealed all of the details of the story, including her restless nature as a child and later, her determination to find a way to contribute to the search for the missing queen. She tried to discern some sort of reaction out of his expression around the time she started to tell him when her nightmares began during the Byzen Festival, several days before Aquila had gone missing in the first place. Asta remembered that she used to sit and have breakfast with the vibrant queen with her neck sparkling with ruby necklaces against her pale skin. Telling the story to another other than herself made her recall all those instances in which she had seen Aquila—all of those missed opportunities.

Now in her mind, she knew that admitting these things made her look crazy and she feared doing so would damn her to her mother's fate. After all, what use was a wife with a mind filled with delusions? She spoke to her deceased father, heard his voice whisper in her ear tauntingly, and he appeared before her in various states of decomposition, all frightening her.

She couldn't face Kouen after she finished speaking about the Byzen Festival. She covered every detail through to the end when she and the three princes unearthed Aquila's shallow grave.

"Was that the first instance you experienced such a dream?" he asked patiently.

"I have had them before, but not in the same capacity," she answered, staring at her hands on her lap, her knuckles white and her nails pressed hard against her reddened palms. "This story only serves to damn me. I am defective, you know, and I see nightmares in reality. I dreamt peacefully once, I lived in denial and lived normally, but I cannot do that anymore because I see them. I see shadows in my sleep and speak to the dead when I wake. Yes, I am normal, but my mind is not."

"And if what you possess is a gift?"

Asta lifted her eyes from her lap to his face. "I have never once considered it a gift."

"Is that because you don't understand the nature of your gift?"

Asta didn't understand her reason for crying, but she felt the warm tears fall down her cheeks as she left her seat. She thought that standing would make her feel better than sitting, but it made her feel smaller standing in front of Kouen. "You think this is a gift?"

"We don't live in a world where it would be considered impossible," he replied calmly. "There are magicians that can use their magic to glimpse into the past or peek into the future. If what you told me of the Byzen Festival, you predicted the death of a woman long before it occurred. You walked with her and allowed her to show you where she would be found."

"Or perhaps, that was all the imaginings of a child?" she interjected, her voice trembling. "Maybe I guessed correctly in every turned and maybe the woman in my dreams was not the missing queen, but the manifestation of a child's fear."

"Maybe it was Clairvoyance Magic."

"And if it wasn't? The future of Ione does not look fine from where I stand if it weren't."

"Ione will not suffer if it wasn't, but if it was, I must know."

Asta covered her mouth before the sob escaped her because it wasn't a gift but a terrifying curse. There were many other implications attached to it being an actual thing. If she ignored it, she feared she was going insane, if she embraced it, the other side felt cold and unwelcoming. If she admitted that she was seeing the future in her dreams, it meant she could've saved Aquila had she not been afraid. She couldn't handle the weight of another life on her conscious. She didn't know what was worse.

"I don't know," she told him. "What I am if I am that and if I'm not anything but an explosion waiting to happen—I don't know. Whatever I am, please don't let Ione suffer, and until I have an answer, please don't tell anyone."

Kouen nodded. "You have my word."

She shamefully dried her tears with the long sleeves of her robe. She sniffled noisily, imagining her appearance as she tried to avoid eye contact with her husband.

"Your hard work in Corrin is appreciated, Asta," he told her. "You did a good job."

Asta nodded, saying nothing.

"You should rest."

"I want to speak to Nikias before I do."

"You can try to talk with him tomorrow."

Asta sank back into the bed set for them. She realized she didn't know what she would tell Nikias when she saw him. Would she apologize to him? What about all of the things that he wanted to do? Righting the wrongs committed against him. Could she help him in any way?

"Is there any way of tracking the location of the Corrinean princesses my father sold into slavery?" asked Asta, watching Kouen return to his desk.

"Given the nature in which your father chose to deal with the princesses, I would say that it would be unlikely," he said, and it upset her. "You are not at fault for his actions."

"It doesn't make me feel any less guilty. Ione invaded Corrin. My father killed the king and queen, sold the princesses, and forced the country to pick up their weapons."

"Think about the Kou Empire's ultimate goal," he told her, "perhaps that will lessen the bitterness."

Asta gathered up the blankets and returned to the comfort of the bedding. The sheets were soft, not quite like the ones in her guestroom at Nikias' hidden palace, and the blankets were warm. It smelled like Kouen—familiar.

She woke up when Kouen was getting into bed.

"Is it morning?" she asked, yawning.

"No."

She moved over a little because she felt she was hogging the space. She watched him settle before she hugged her pillow closer and closed her eyes again.

Asta was excited to see Hua the next morning when the raven-haired woman entered the tent to help her get dressed. Hua surprised Asta with a tight hug, but before Asta could return it, Hua let her go and apologized repeatedly as she bowed. Asta embraced her once she stopped apologizing.

"I'm happy to be back," she told Hua.

Hua helped Asta get into one of her dresses and brushed her hair before she braided it. Asta thanked her and excused her for the morning. As she stood inside the tent, staring down at the papers strewn across Kouen's desk, she noticed a dark bottle in her peripheral vision and looked down to one of the table's legs. Against it was the bottle Egil Vång left as a gift. She picked it up by the neck and struggled for several minutes to uncork it, but managed after using several of the quills on the desk to help on her mission—she'd apologize for the ones she broke. She walked out with the bottle in hand to a camp celebrating their victory, as one would expect from the armies responsible for taking over a country. The Ionian soldiers were definitely enjoying themselves.

While no one was looking she took a whiff of the bottle of sweet smelling berries, noting nothing out of order, before she dumped all of its contents out into nearby shrubbery. She left the empty bottle inside her tent and wandered off into the camp in search of Werner or any other person in a position to tell her where Nikias was being kept so that she could talk to him. She planned to lead with an apology for the betrayal, though expected that to go horribly.

"Asta!"

Asta turned in the direction of the voice and spotted Baron in the distance standing with Kouen before she was hoisted up into the air by the waist. She yelped in shock and looked down into Melik's shining black eyes. He was as she remembered him, brown-skinned with his long black hair braided loosely over his shoulder and a handsome face. His body was a tad more muscular than she recalled, but he was still very lean and dressed impeccably with more gold and jewels on him than she ever remembered.

A swell of excitement filled her belly when she realized what Melik had done in front of the entire campsite of soldiers that had only just recently started to see her as a competent leader and Kouen, who she thought she liked but would never admit. Melik lifted her up as one would a small child and spun her around mercilessly, laughing boisterously, until he grew tired himself and set her on her feet.

Her face was a deep red and the world was spinning.

Melik patted her head. "Have you even grown, little Asta? You are as small as the last I saw you."

"I did!" she complained.

"And you're married now!" He nudged her shoulder teasingly as Kouen and Baron approached them. "I always imagined you would go off and marry some nice fellow—a never hurt a fly sort of guy—but Ren Kouen of the Kou Empire? That's amazing! Good job! Congratulations! When should I expect my first niece or nephew?"

"That's enough, brother," chastised Baron, frowning at his elder brother.

"Thank you for coming to our aid," said Asta, trying to steer the conversation into a new direction.

"You have no reason to thank me," replied Melik. "I am but one of your humble servants."

"I wanted to speak with Nikias," started Asta, looking to Kouen. "Where is he?"

"He's in Egil's supply tent," replied Kouen. "Go if you must, but take someone with you."

"I'll accompany you," Baron offered.

She thanked him, but as she was going to leave to find Egil's supply tent, she turned back to Kouen and Melik. "What about Nohr and Lorah? Their armies should be in Corrin within the week."

"We are to discuss that during tonight's gathering," said Kouen. "Don't be late."

She nodded.

Baron showed her the way to the supply tent. It was a little isolated from the camp. The other prisoners were held in the mountains, separate from their prince, to keep them from the temptation of resurgence. Asta asked Baron to wait outside as she entered the small tent.

There were craters of tools and supplies stacked up high and low around Nikias who sat with his arms bound behind his back. He lifted his face to see her and his pale eyebrows knitted with disgust.

"Nikias, I'm—"

"You shot an arrow through me," Nikias interrupted, voice low and menacing. "You tried to kill me."

"I hit your shoulder," she told him.

"You tried to kill me," he repeated.

"Nikias, I'm so—"

"You tried to kill me!" he shouted, startling her. "You tried to kill me! You betrayed me! I love you! I would've done anything for you, but you turned your back on me!"

Asta swallowed hard, watching him so affected by his words. She waited for him to calm down, but heard him murmur repeatedly that she betrayed him. It saddened her, twisted her heart until it hurt. She stepped closer to him and Nikias shuffled back, hitting hard against the crates behind him. She saw him in that heartbreaking reaction—the boy she thought was lost, frightened, and full of vulnerabilities.

"You're not," she said, moving back to her position by the entrance. He glared at her. "You aren't in love with me."

"You don't know what is in my heart," he spat.

"You don't love me," she repeated. "You cannot use that against me when you said it yourself that you love the idea of me. Maybe the feelings were real at some point, but the girl that fascinated you—that protected and defended you—I'm not her. You saw that the first instant we met and it disappointed you. I disappointed you. I was not the woman that you expected to reunite with and had I been, I would not be married to Kouen. This invasion would not have happened."

"This invasion happened because you were weak! You couldn't stand up to your father! You allowed him to run your kingdom to the ground and let him seek help from the Kou Empire! You damned us all for your weakness! You destroyed the Byzen Cluster!"

"Yes," she said, feeling a stab in her chest after each accusation. "I have my shortcomings, but this was not my fault alone. So yes, I am weak. I have never stood up against my father and he ran Ione into so much debt that it was easy for the Kou Empire to sweep in and help us. You say I ruined the Cluster, but have you not forgotten how you agreed to aid Freja in sacking me?"

"I did it for you." Nikias didn't look at her. "I had no obligation to keep up the agreement my mother made with her, but I knew that she planned to use you until she could dispose of you. I knew that I could protect you—I understood that aligning myself to that woman would guarantee your survival."

"My father guaranteed my survival by marrying me off to the Kou Empire. I hate to acknowledge his contribution to the chaos as something positive, but he is the reason I'm alive. He anticipated the coming of another uprising. He likely pinpointed it to his sister himself. He damned the country to rebuild it back to its former glory, but failed in taking action when it came to maintaining the economy. I am fortunate that our army caught Kouen's eyes, else I would not be here, and you would likely be dead."

"Am I not already dead?" asked Nikias. "You may have a fragile heart, but your husband does not. What did you come for? To pretend at showing me mercy and giving me a last bit of hope before I am executed in front of your people. Take my kingdom, you traitorous whore, and I hope that when it comes time for you to truly face the consequences of your father's actions that you will think back to this hour and regret your sinful words. You should be begging for my mercy! You should be begging me to love you! You're a fool—an idiot! You think you can be happy being a conqueror's wife? Surrounded by war and violence, reminded every hour of everyday about all the countries you are watching the Kou Empire swallow whole? Will you stand idle as the Kou Empire takes our cultures and strips us of our identities?"

Asta felt her hands fist at her sides. "Nikias…"

Nikias struggled against his chains, ambling to stand, but was forced back into his seat because of the short link. His eyes were wide with fury. "This isn't over! This is the beginning!"

"You are not going to be executed! I will not allow it! So, no, it isn't over! You can still be here for your country! It'll be different—yes, but the people will be the same—"

"I'd rather be dead," he spat.

"Nikias, I'm doing everything I can to make this—"

"Just get out!"

Theodora's crown shattering in her touch came to mind and her heart seized. "Nikias, please, you have to listen—"

"Get out!"

"I'm afraid of—"

"Just get out!"

Asta fell silent as he repeated for her to leave and resigned to do so, venturing outside where Baron waited. He patted her shoulder with a supportive smile, but she couldn't shake the sharp pain she felt embedded deep in her chest.

"Are you okay?" asked Baron.

"No, I'm not," she answered, "but whether I am or not makes no difference."

She had a bad feeling.

"What do you mean?"

"We have more important things to worry about," she told him instead. She was exhausted by her cursed sight that made no sense spoken aloud. It was safe to say that she learned nothing in her conversation with Kouen about what he considered the ability to use Clairvoyance Magic. She wasn't the least bit magical.

Maybe she was crazy. Maybe she wasn't.

Asta left Baron's side to rejoin Kouen, with who she remained for the larger portion of the morning and afternoon. She wasn't quite sure what to do before the celebratory dinner everyone was having later before the war council about the pending arrivals of Louise of Lorah and Ilya of Nohr. There wasn't a lot of conversing going on between her and Kouen, but she felt at ease by his side, though there came a point in which he had grown tired of her constant glimpsing in his direction that he handed her something to read—to "learn" about something useful. It was a boring old history book about the first people.

"You're like an old man trapped in a young body," she murmured, lying flat on her stomach with the tome opened atop a pillow.

"And you're a child," he shot back, very calmly from his seat at his desk.

She rested her cheek over the book, staring at him. "Does it get better?"

"What?"

"Taking lives."

Kouen looked in her direction. "No," he said, returning his eyes to the scroll that he was reading. "It never does."

The thought was an upsetting one, but she appreciated his honesty. Anyone else might have lied to make her feel better, she didn't know.

"What will happen to Nikias?" she asked. "Will you have him killed?"

"Not if he can be convinced to serve the Kou Empire," he replied, "or you at the very least."

Asta raised her head. "What?"

"You are surprisingly magnetic."

Her face betrayed her emotions the instant the blood rushed to her cheeks. He praised her. He called her magnetic, of course, it wasn't without the hint of an insult, but he was praising her. "What?"

"You attract good fortune and people," he continued leisurely. "There are people naturally attracted to you. Perhaps, it is your naivety or your innocence or your blind belief in people or maybe it's because you are a pushover, but you inspire the protection of others and that breeds affection. In Ione, you were viewed as the hope of the country because there was such a stark contrast between you and your father. You were soft, graceful, and kind where he was hard, boorish, and cruel. Here you proved that your influence spread further, all the way to Hassah. There are people willing to fight for you, to serve you, and despite your flaws, it is obvious that there is more to you than meets the eye. You have the potential to be a leader."

To have even the slightest speck of possibility was all she ever wanted. If she had that tiny bit, she could do something. Hearing him say that she had potential to become a leader was praise beyond her expectation. And yet, in the midst of warfare, she recalled her sorry state. Seated in a patch of grass soaked in the blood of her soldiers, surrounded by the corpses of those that fought to protect her and fell, her fingers cut and bleeding as she desperately tried to restring her bow. She didn't know why she was so focused on it when Werner had returned her dagger to her and she knew how to use it—on the game she hunted, but war was different.

How different? She asked herself now, repeating the question over and over again in her mind. She would be taking life either way. One carried a little more weight than the other did. Morality was questioned with one.

It felt easy for her to tell him that she didn't want to be a leader—that she hated the violence and death attached to the occupation, but that meant giving up on her people, on Nikias' people, and on the rest of the Byzen Cluster. She couldn't do that.

"With proper guidance," Kouen finished.

Asta raised her head. "Meaning?"

"Not long ago I told you that you would become the Byzen Cluster's retainer," said Kouen. "After what you accomplished here, I have a little more confidence in your ability to become a greater asset to the Kou Empire."

She shut the book on her pillow. She remembered. She aspired to become the ideal when he first proposed it, but feared it now because she felt she was going insane.

"I will expect no less from you," he continued. "Continue doing your best."

She would need to find the strength needed to rule. She couldn't fall apart in the same manner that she had with Brenna Falk and her five traitors. She needed to be free of it.

Asta got out of the bed to pick up her bow from atop a chair. The wood was stained with blood same with the string. It was hers. Mostly. She noticed something upon closer inspection. The ends where the line was strung were made weak. It wasn't a bow meant for long-term use. She returned it to its place, leaving it with whatever spark of suspicion she felt rise from her chest.

"Is something wrong?" asked Kouen.

"No. Everything's fine."

Her fingers ached from the memory. She moved them, stared at them, remembered the cuts on them, and as she rubbed her thumb and forefinger together she felt an odd accumulation of feeling rising from the pit of her stomach moving up to her throat. It was happening again. The air was thinning.

Why was it happening again?

She took a step back, her ankle bent, and she fell back. She hit the ground hard and gasped for air. Distantly, she heard Kouen call her name, but she had already sunken into that nether realm. She heard footsteps echoing on marble floor in a rhythmic manner and ringing laughter.

Asta lifted herself up and saw a large hall spread out before her, the warm colors of her tent blending into the pure white interior of the new location stitched into her mind. The architecture reminded her of Nikias' hidden palace—arches and pillars, high tinted windows with elaborate designs.

In the center of the floor was a crowd of people dancing, moving around in circles that reminded her of the ashen figures that she once envisioned whirling about in her castle shedding off specks of their flakey skin. She spotted Nikias in the middle wearing a sapphire crown on his head dancing with a young woman that resembled him quite a bit to make it obvious that she was one of his sisters. Eris, she determined, because she looked around the age that the first princess would be. She was a tall, thin girl with silver hair down to her upper back sporting a small crown of diamonds and her eyes were a light blue shade. She wore a beautiful white dress.

Twin doors slammed open and Aesop entered leading in a few others, disturbing the festive ambience of the hall. The crowd parted to allow him passage, exposing the King and Queen of Corrin to her view. Asta got on her feet, her heart pounding.

Aesop went down on one knee before the king. "Baryon is under the Kou Empire's control now. King Hákon has landed in Corrin."

Asta saw the scene before her disintegrate and she blinked, regaining conscious in Kouen's arms. A thought ran across her mind as she stared up at her husband. It was Eris' birthday when Hákon began his invasion of Corrin.

"What did you see?" asked Kouen, sitting her upright on the floor.

"The inside of the castle in Atros before my father's invasion," she told him, lightheaded. She spoke before she had a chance to deny that she had seen anything at all. He was humoring her when it came to this _gift_ to which he referred.

"Have you seen this before?"

"Yes," she said, looking at him. "I saw it in Ione, but it had already happened. The day my father was brought home."

He appeared pensive. "If I remember correctly, that day you woke up and said that your father was in Ione seconds before Bengt entered to tell us that his body had been brought to the castle. Did you see that as well?"

The figure in white came to mind walking forward with Theodora's crown and handing it to her. She reached out to touch it and it fell apart.

"No. I heard his voice call my name." She shook her head, starting to freak out. "I don't want to talk about this. It's too much. I can't. I'm sorry."

"You clearly have a gift, Asta."

"I have an overactive imagination." She got on her feet as she rubbed her head. "This is too much. Excuse me."

Asta walked out into a sea of chummy soldiers drinking and praising their good fortune. As she walked past them, unlike before, they took the time to acknowledge her with the respect her title demanded. She was still adjusting to the change.

She searched the camp until she came across Werner sharpening his blade near Egil's setup. Egil was there working by the flames, smelting a dagger to perfection, though he was surrounded by broken weapons. Both men stopped what they were doing immediately and greeted her.

"Can I ask you a question?" she asked Werner.

"Yes, of course, you needn't ask."

"When you and my father invaded Corrin, there was a celebration happening in the castle wasn't there?"

Werner lowered his gaze briefly. "Yes, it was Princess Eris' birthday."

She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. "Thank you for telling me."

{ **iii** }

Melik found Asta sitting on the mountain overlooking Corrin. She went out there to be alone, too exhausted to celebrate the victory she made possible. She held her knees, seated with her legs folded up to her chest.

"I'm sorry for telling Kouen about Queen Aquila," he said, taking a seat beside her.

"It's okay," she assured. "He would've found out eventually. I'm not angry that you did."

"You being who you are with the abilities that you possess are invaluable."

"I don't have magic."

"I don't understand what it must be like for you to see the things that you do, but I do understand what I saw during the Byzen Festival. You possess a gift that allows you to glimpse into the past and the future with great accuracy. I believe in the girl that found the queen buried under that oak tree when everyone else was convinced that she had run away."

Asta leaned forward to rest her face atop her knees. "I could be going crazy. You saw what happened to my mother."

"You are afraid, not crazy. It is all right to be afraid of things you don't understand." Melik patted her shoulder. "Everything should pan out nicely. You're in a favorable position having been married to the Kou Empire."

"They're an aggressive country that's taking over the Byzen Cluster. You won't be a prince after this takeover is done, you will no longer have any say in what occurs in your country."

"No matter. You have the support of Hassah. You will have the support of Nohr and Lorah as well."

"After what my father has done in Baryon and Corrin? We have Nikias, but the three princesses are lost, sold into slavery. I cannot imagine what they must be going through because of my father's cruelty."

"Baron and I will take charge of searching for the princesses."

"Kouen said there is little hope in finding them."

"Ah, but we aren't the sort that'd give up on finding them so easily. We will find them, but we have to secure Nikias to our side first." He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze and smiled at her reassuringly. "I leave that to you."

Melik stood, stretched out.

"Well, don't stay out here long."

"Thank you for coming all this way for me, Melik." She paused. "Before and now."

Melik smiled. "Anything for you."

Asta stayed there for a little longer and got up after dark to join the others. She took a detour to Egil's supply tent where Nikias was kept. There were many more guards posted outside of it, a mixture of soldiers from the Kou Empire, Ione, and Hassah. She would've entered to apologize for earlier, but felt it would be better to leave him to rest. She would've preferred he be kept elsewhere, somewhere more comfortable where he had the opportunity to rest.

Baron spotted her and called her over to where Kouen, Melik, Werner, and Egil were gathered around a long table. She went to stand next to Kouen, placing a hand on his shoulder before she took her seat to his right as Egil was serving him a cup of wine. The liquid was a dark shade.

"Would you like a cup of blackberry wine?" asked Egil, holding the bottle up for her to see.

Asta reached for Kouen's goblet and brought it up to her mouth to drink. It had a dry taste, reminding her more of red wine with a faint blackberry tang. She returned the cup back to its place by Kouen's hand and took her seat.

"No, thank you," she told Egil.

"You have your work cut out for you, Egil," commented Werner.

"Oh, yes, I have plenty of weapons piled up to repair," said Egil, laughing a little. "Don't tell me you worked your sword until it broke."

"Of course not!"

Baron offered her sweetened raspberry wine and she handed him her cup. Melik was enjoying a plate of fruit with his wine. The conversation that they were having before she joined them continued. She didn't have much of an appetite, but she tried to pick at some of the fruit available while she listened to everyone talk.

As the men were discussing the next course of action concerning the forces of Lorah and Nohr arriving from the south, Asta kept her eyes on Egil, the bulky blacksmith. She didn't quite have a reason for doing so, she simply felt drawn to him. It wasn't a form of attraction. Magnetism? No. Something else.

What was it?

"Egil," called Asta, disrupting the conversation.

"Yes, my queen?"

"The bow you gave me," she started, "could you fix it for me?"

"Asta, this isn't the time to have your bow fixed," said Kouen.

"You're right. I'm going to sleep."

"Princess?" called Werner. "Are you sure you don't want to stay?"

She nodded, drinking the last of her wine, and stood as she set the goblet down on the table beside her half empty plate. "Have all of Nikias' and Freja's moles been captured yet?"

"They are being drawn out," said Kouen.

"Good."

Asta excused herself and returned to the tent. Carina was standing by the entrance with Hua and Aghi. She approached them, happy to see them all together.

"Are you going to sleep now, princess?" asked Hua.

"Yes."

"Let me help you change out of those clothes."

Asta nodded and Hua followed her inside. Carina and Aghi continued chatting outside. Carina was grilling Aghi about Nero of Hassah, who she claimed spent a lot of time following him around the camp. Aghi changed the subject to that of his weapon, one that he acquired in the camp, breaking because the blade was too brittle and he admitted to having to take weapons from the fallen soldiers to keep Asta safe, but Carina admonished him for changing the subject.

Hua helped her get into one of her shifts before leaving to bring her some tea to help her sleep. Asta got into bed and waited, listening to the different sounds outside—the chatter, the wind rustling the leaves in the tree, the crunch of grass and dirt beneath footsteps, and light pelting against the rooftop.

She sat up after hearing a rumble in the sky. She imagined it. Definitely imagined it. It wasn't raining and that wasn't thunder.

The rainfall grew noisier and the sky rumbled again. Asta didn't know what was worse, the coming rainstorm or enduring it and the pending thunderstorm in a tent. She heard shuffling outside and talks of making sandbags while others were glad they didn't have to fight in the middle of a storm.

Asta pulled the blankets over her head the next time she rested her head. She managed to sleep for a few minutes, but woke up to the sound of thunder. She rolled out of bed and grabbed a warm robe, tugging it on, before peering outside. The camp was shrouded in mist and rain. The soldiers present were patrolling the narrow spaces between the smaller tents. The few torches lighting the place were being burnt out, slowly shrouding the camp in darkness.

"Princess, you should remain inside," one of the soldiers standing guard told her.

She returned inside and sat down on top of the low bed. She moved closer to the brazier burning stones and emanating warmth and drew her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. She stared into the brazier's black surface.

Asta lost sleep with the storm, jolting every time thunder crackled in the sky.

She was awake when Kouen returned, wrapped up in a blanket.

"Have you not been asleep?" he asked, walking across the tent to find a towel. He was wet from the rain, clothes dripping, and his red hair stuck close to his face.

"I couldn't sleep," she told him, "because of the storm."

Asta turned her face away as he started to undress. She wanted him to have at least some privacy when he did.

"You're afraid of the storm?" he asked, bringing attention to it perhaps because it was a childish fear.

"Everyone is afraid of something," she replied, unconsciously sneaking a peak at Kouen's naked back. She felt the heat rise to her cheeks and glued her eyes to the ground.

"Do you want a glass of wine?"

Asta watched him take a bottle from a case on the ground. "Is it from the ship?"

"Yes. As I recall you saying, drink only from the ship's stores." He handed her the cups and uncorked the bottle of wine. "Did you fear someone would poison me?"

"Well, yes," she said, holding the cups straight for him to pour the wine. She had a dream about. A repetitive one. Those meant something. She didn't repeat scenarios for no reason. "It would not matter anymore if you were or I was."

Kouen took his cup and sat down next to her, a few inches between them. "Why is that?"

"Because we have Baron now." She drank from her cup. It was another dry wine, sour on her tongue with a small hint of alcohol. "He is very knowledgeable in poisons and their remedies." She noticed a hint of interest in his eyes and lowered her gaze immediately. "There is an old story about it."

"What is it?"

"Hassahan royalty used to be made up of several families that warred for the throne. A long line of kings and queens were poisoned to death until a single dynasty remained." Asta shrunk in her seat, holding the cup so close to her mouth that she spoke into it and her voice rang a little strange. "I'm not a very good storyteller, so it isn't an interesting story."

"Do you intend to give up on it before you reach the end?" he asked, drinking wine.

"There is always a Hassahan prince or princess raised in a bed of poison," she told him. "Hassah is a holy land. Shedding blood is a sin within the borders of their country. However, when one wants somebody dead, there is always poison."

"Why did you suppose someone would poison me?"

"One would be stupid not to try."

"That is true."

"We are the enemy."

"For now."

There was silence between them, but the heavy rainfall and thunder outside created a mixture of loud, frightening noises. It was windy too. The way she came to imagine things, the tents were barely hanging on in the face of the storm, though they were quite secure.

Kouen took another drink from his cup before he surprised her by touching her face.

She flinched, moving away uncomfortably. Her face was red. She felt it, the heat radiating from it. She looked at him wide-eyed, likely appearing frightened.

"How did you plan to make our marriage work if you are so offended by my touch?" he asked, staring at her directly.

"I'm not offended by it. I was merely taken aback by it." She also liked him and didn't want him to know about it, though her face was doing a spectacular job in making it known. "I'm sorry if you saw it that way, it was unintentional. I do plan for it to work and—"

A loud rumble made her jolt. The liquid in her cup sloshed around with her sudden movements, but it didn't spill.

"You're afraid of thunder," he determined, just as another boom filtered above them and she reacted with another jerk. She swore she heard every roar of thunder inside of her head. She was shaken to the core by it.

"Y-Yes."

"You should distract yourself away from the fear. The storm will not let up quickly and you will need to rest eventually," he said. "How did you manage before?"

"I used to sneak into my mother's bed up until her death and she would comfort me. After that I..." There was Johan, but it would be impolite to bring that up. "I had Lady Bo. She brewed me tea. Hua already did tonight, but it didn't work."

"Should I distract you?"

Her face was on fire. "How?"

"You're blushing," he pointed out. "You are already considering the possibility of what this may be, are you not?"

"N-No," she lied, but she was. She seriously considered every possibility imaginable.

Kouen took her cup of wine and put in on the floor. He moved a little closer to her with a different air about him. She got the hint as soon as he proposed to distract her and it wasn't a terrible proposal to make. She didn't see why she should turn him down anyway. It wasn't like he would hold her through the night as others have until her fear went away.

"Will it stop hurting?" she asked, heart beginning to speed up.

"Relax," he said. "It would be helpful to us both."

Asta was a little nervous regardless.

"We can take it slow," he told her. "Until you get used to it."

They were going about it all backwards. His words too eased a little of her fear.

She nodded. "C-Can I kiss you?"

"You don't have to ask for permission."

"You've never kissed me before," she said shakily.

"I've never felt tempted to do so."

She pressed her lips together hard. "That doesn't make me want to kiss you anymore."

She saw the hint of a smile curve his lips as he took her by the chin and kissed her briefly. She wanted to burrow under the blankets and hide for the rest of the night. She couldn't stare at him directly, though she felt quite tempted to kiss him again, she refused after what he had told her.

"Does that mean you are tempted now?" she asked softly.

"It might."

Kouen kissed her neck and she felt her body melt like boiled jelly. She felt his hand on her thigh, pushing her shift up over it, and caught the hint. She lifted herself enough to push the light fabric out from underneath her and he helped her pull it off her body. She reclined back into the bed and he followed her down. His drying hair felt cool against her hot skin moving down the length of her small torso, kissing a straight line to her navel. Her breaths quickened and her heart raced, her throat dried.

He raised his eyes and stunned her with a look that astonished her, a hungry one. He pulled her legs apart and proceeded to kiss her inner thigh, moving closer with each one that followed until his mouth was at her entrance and his tongue delving between her folds.

She panicked. Her hands flew to his head, fingers tangling in his hair. Breathily, she called, "Kouen! Wait!"

He stopped, raising his head. "What is it?"

"What are you doing?"

"Distracting you," he deadpanned.

"It feels strange," she admitted, swallowing thickly. She did find him extremely appealing in the position he was in, but she was denying that fact to herself as well as him.

"Good or bad?"

"I don't know yet."

"Tell me when you do."

Kouen went back to what he was doing and Asta rested her head back onto the nearest pillow. As she did, she started to feel his intimate kisses as he intended them with wave after wave of startling pleasure. She covered her mouth when the moans started to leave her mouth with more frequency, but midway through, he took her hand and pulled it away from her mouth. She was more embarrassed about her voice leaking out as loud as it did, but he seemed to know what places to kiss with more intimacy to get a stronger reaction out of her.

He quickened his movements, even pushed a finger inside of her, which he thrust shallowly at the same time that he sucked on her tingling flesh. She started to pant as she began to come, growing more and more anxious until the pleasure washed over her from head to toe.

Kouen rose up on his knees in front of her, reaching back to pick up his cup. He took a small sip before he offered it to her. She took it after sitting up and drank the rest of it.

"Better?" he asked.

"Yes," she answered breathlessly.

"Do you want to continue?"

She nodded. How could she not? That was different and exciting. If things continued in that manner, she could enjoy the actual sex, or at least she hoped that she could.

Kouen prepared her for a long time before he pushed inside of her. It wasn't quite as horrible as the first time, though it was still a bit uncomfortable. She could kiss him and that distracted her enough from the rumbling of thunder outside and the hint of left over pain between them. The end of their encounter was different.

As he silenced her moans with a deep kiss, his tongue tangled up with hers, and his shaft thrusting inside her slow but hard, she only felt pleasure. The friction between their joined bodies, the weight of him, which had seemed so suffocating before was welcoming to her now, and his kiss made all the difference. She couldn't recall the little aches. They were in the past, foreign to her.

Asta arched into him and he wrapped his arms around her slim waist, thrusting faster. The change in tempo surprised her because of how quickly the heat pooled in her belly, spreading across her body until Kouen wrung every drop of pleasure from her. He finished shortly after she did and lied down beside her, a coat of perspiration visible over his gloriously muscled body.

Kouen reached over on his side and draped a blanket over them, turning on his shoulder to face her. She felt his fingers brush lightly against the side of her curled body before he pulled the fur coverlet up over her arm. She was exhausted.

The embers had gone out and the tent had grown cold. There was a single candle burning, so the light was dim. The rain had slowed and the thunder was more spread apart giving Asta the opportunity to sleep.

She slept soundly through the night.

{ **iv **}

Asta delivered her bow to Egil the following morning. She watched him as he looked at it from various angles, particularly the ends where the bowstring was hooked.

"Did this bow take any significant damage before you used it?" asked Egil.

"It's a beautiful bow," she said. "I was taken by its beauty and the great craftsmanship that I failed to inspect it as Werner taught me growing up. Had I done so, I would've caught on to the fact that the string nock was built a little weaker resulting in the snapping of the bowstring after a few uses."

Egil raised his steely gaze to meet hers, lowering the bow down onto his workstation. "Have I done something to upset you, my queen?"

"Have you?" she asked, staring at him firmly. She noticed his hand move close to a cutting knife on the table. "Will you?"

His hand fisted. "I would not dream of it, my queen."

"There's no need for you to act so finicky," said Asta, smiling at him. "Leave that to me. I'm the one in over my head."

She laughed.

He shook his head. "You are quite poised, my queen, I would not think that you were ever finicky."

Asta was starting to understand what drew her to him. This man inspired confidence in others. People trusted him for being a kind-faced man with a clean record and years of an unblemished personality. He was a skillful worker and came down with her father to aid in his conquest by providing weapons.

Egil was surrounded by broken weapons. They were still being delivered to him by soldiers that claimed they had broken in the midst of battle, forcing them to resort to stealing the weapons from their enemy's corpses. Every great blacksmith came upon a mistake or two; the materials they were working with were mostly to blame. Egil worked tirelessly to supply the camp with weapons. To do so, he had brought on four other blacksmiths and five apprentices that worked in different stations around the stretch of ground that their battle camp covered. One apprentice stayed at his side constantly, his eldest son Stigr, to help him personally. These blacksmiths and apprentices stayed out of sight for the most part, but they were working out of the same supply tent—the one where Nikias was kept. All of them had access to it.

She smiled at him. "If you are in need of more blacksmiths, please tell me, I am sure we can provide them for you."

"We can handle this much at the very least," he told her, unconsciously gesturing to the broken weapons.

"Is that all of the defective weapons or are there more in every station?" she asked curiously.

"They have all been gathered here. I asked my blacksmiths to focus on the creation of more weapons and leave the repairs to me. I'll have a better bow for you in no time, your majesty."

"I'm fine with that one. You don't need to make another. I quite liked this one."

"I do apologize for the poor craftsmanship."

"It didn't kill me, so it isn't a problem at all," she replied, making light of the situation.

"Asta!"

She turned away from the anxious Egil and saw Melik waving at her from the distance. She excused herself with Egil and walked up to join Melik, who was excited about being shown around the camp.

Asta walked with Melik for hours, even stopped to have lunch with him and Baron. They teased her mercilessly about Kouen after Aghi accidentally let them know that she had a crush on her husband. Carina was crying with laughter in reaction to the stunned silence that followed the confession.

Baron smacked her back. "But that's a good thing, isn't it?"

"No," Asta protested, "because we agreed to being joined in a loveless marriage for the rest of our lives for the benefit of our countries. If I develop actual feelings, it's going to be awful to know that it will probably always remain one-sided."

"Well, you weren't there when I told the prince you had a gift," said Melik smugly. "His eyes were sparkling with interest."

"No doubt your show of leadership here impressed him as well," added Baron.

Asta's face heated. "Stop teasing me!"

Melik put his hand on her shoulder. "What we're saying is that you shouldn't be worried. You being you is all you'll ever need to charm any man. Your husband is most definitely interested in you."

"In the idea that I possess a gift," she corrected.

"Any relationship just needs a little bit of interest to set its foundation," said Baron.

"However, a piece of advice, you are going through a transitional phase, so you must be strong. Seek to stand by that which makes you feel stronger. Fall in love if that gives you strength," said Melik. "We are your pillars if you need us. Teasing aside, Kouen is a great asset to you and you are the same to him. This marriage of yours has one purpose, for you both to use it to your advantage. Nevertheless, don't let that stop you from trusting your heart and the images you see."

"Thank you."

Asta left the group as the sky transitioned from day to night and went to Nikias' tent in the company of Aghi and Carina. She walked inside the heavily guarded tent, learning from the posted guards that an attempt against his life had been made last night and that they were going to move him elsewhere when the new location was given to him by their overseeing commander.

Nikias' feet were caked in mud, his hair was damp and slicked back away from his face, and her clothes were wrinkled from a tussle. He cast one look at her and snarled.

"Have you come to kill me?" asked Nikias.

"No. I've come to talk if you'll have me."

"You are wasting your breath. I will not be swayed by the trash you spew."

"Truly, Nikias, I only want to be in your company," said Asta, looking around for any low crates. She found one to sit on where there was enough distance between them to allow him some comfort. She had an obligation to her people to find Nikias' connection to the camp, but she felt that she had a responsibility to Nikias alone as well. "We don't have to speak. I just want to be here."

Nikias turned his face away, determined to ignore her, and she sat there patiently in silence.

He said nothing. He found an area to focus his gaze and stared at it for the while that she was present. There was rainfall again that evening coupled with the sound of his soft breathing. Asta felt a chill and noticed him shivering, fighting futilely against doing so visibly, but the atmosphere was cool, much too cold for someone that had spent the night in shackles and the thin, dirty clothes in which he had been captured.

"If I took your shackles, would you run?" she asked.

Nikias looked up at her. "You would be stupid to try."

"Where will you go?"

"This is my kingdom and I know it better than you."

Asta stood up and walked to the entrance of the tent. She peered outside. "Guard."

"Yes, your majesty?"

"I'm taking Nikias with me, help me."

The male guard nodded. "Yes."

Asta wasn't certain where she would take Nikias until they were halfway to where the Hassahan troops had set up, their navy blue tents seemed to wrap around the Kou Empire and Ione's camp. It wasn't difficult to locate Baron, who took one look at her, the guard, and Nikias, and directed them into a tent where Melik was comfortably longing atop several pillows with a book in his hand.

Melik saw them, put his book down, and sat up.

Asta turned to the guard, asked for the keys to Nikias' chains, and told him to inform his commanding officer that she had turned over responsibility of Nikias to Melik and Baron. He didn't question her. He didn't even mention Kouen. Soldiers from the Kou Empire weren't the sort to ask whether she was sure or not, though that didn't mean that Kouen wouldn't know about her actions as soon as this guard returned to his post.

She left the keys to Nikias' shackles to Baron. "Take care of him."

"I don't need your pity!" snapped Nikias.

Melik got out of his seat and took Nikias' by the jaw. "Asta forgave your vile treatment, we will as well, but do not think for an instant that we pity you when you dug your own grave."

Nikias struggled against Melik's hold. "Unhand me!"

"I'll have someone prepare a bath," said Baron, exiting the tent.

"I should go back to Kouen. I'll leave Nikias to you."

{ **v** }

Asta visited Nikias the following morning while Melik went to meet with Kouen about dealing with Nohr. It was common knowledge among the next generation of rulers that the only person capable of stopping Ilya the Dark Knight from staying true to his reputation was Melik. She assured Kouen that so long as Melik was on their side that he would have no trouble acquiring another country for the Kou Empire. He wasn't quite as convinced. She could see it in his expression or lack thereof, that he found it hard to believe they could resolve the matter without another war.

Nikias was bathed, dressed in clothes offered to him by the Buhari brothers, and seated reading the same book Melik had been enjoying when she entrusted his care to Hassah. Kouen had asked her about it, but didn't demand that she return him to the custody of his men. He only asked her to make him talk if he knew secrets that they should be aware of, which she promised to do.

He wore his hair pushed back neatly out of his pale, handsome face. He didn't acknowledge her presence upon entry. She saw a single shackle attached to his left ankle, the link of chains was long and stabbed into the ground with a nail by the corner of the circular tent. He gave off a calmer air. With the conditions of his imprisonment bettering, it appeared that he had as well.

When Asta sat down, she made sure there was distance between them. She'd prefer that he keep his secrets so that he could have at least one thing to hold onto, but she needed to know them. Ultimately, they were valuable to her cause. There were remaining links in her camp and she suspected one, but did not have the proof. Nikias would have to supply that even if he didn't spell out the names of all his and Freja's accomplices. She didn't care.

He wouldn't tell her anything if he thought he felt pressured. She wasn't going to force him.

"Eris looked beautiful in her white dress and diamond crown."

Nikias raised his eyes from the book that he pretended to read and met her gaze with confusion in his eyes.

"She turned twelve the day my father's ship arrived to invade Corrin."

She saw his eyes, so brilliantly blue in the muted candlelight that filled the tent, become glassy with tears.

"What are you doing?" he demanded, whispering.

"You were dancing with her."

"Asta, stop."

Asta watched a single tear roll down his right cheek.

He remembered her. The eldest of his younger sisters, the rambunctious Eris, who possessed more fire in her than a pit filled with it. She had behaved for months to ensure her twelfth birthday's celebration was as she envisioned it because her mother had threatened there wouldn't be one if she continued her path of destruction around the castle. She had played quietly and had attended all of her lessons with every one of her tutors, even the ones she hated. She had not caused trouble for anyone, especially not her mother, and she had been given the party of her dreams.

"She behaved for three whole months," continued Asta, seeing the memories running through his head as if they were filtering through hers. The weight on her chest was heavy, almost too much for her to bear. "It was the first time she was ever afraid that Theodora would really cancel her birthday and she didn't want to risk it."

"Stop it." Nikias covered his face, shaking his head. "Stop this. I don't want to hear this. Your father ravaged our country and you destroyed it."

"You never finished your dance with Eris. You promised her. She was upset believing you would ask Agnes first, but you went to her, bowed to her, and asked for the first dance. Her face was—"

He threw the book across the tent and it hit the tarp behind her, bouncing off and landing open to her left. It started her.

Nikias was sobbing into his hands. "Stop it!"

Asta left her seat and made a beeline to him. She knelt down in front of him and reached to take his hands from his face, but he resisted, breaking away from her grasp.

"Don't touch me!"

She pulled her hands away. "Nikias, you believed in me before, back in the Byzen Festival, you supported me when I feared that I was wrong about Queen Aquila, so believe in me now. Believe in me when I say that I don't mean you any harm."

"You cannot use my sisters against me! You can't! That's cheating! You're cheating! You can't use your gift against me, it isn't fair."

"I can find them," she told him. "If I was cursed with a gift, if this isn't my mind abandoning me, I can find them. If I could find a way to control it—if I could decide what I see and explore, I could find them. I can bring them back to you."

"Do not give me hope. Please."

"Hope is all I can give you." She reached forward to hug him and he clung to her, sobbing into her shoulder.

That night, she went to sleep without answers to Kouen's questions and a heavy heart. She continued to dream of twirling white figures and disintegrating crowns. She woke up several times throughout the night in a cold sweat. She whispered an apology each time she did, her heart hammering in her head.

{ **vi** }

Asta woke up from a dream of snowdrops sprouting from a field of ashes. In it, the figure clad in white rising from a throne flanked by honed men handed her Theodora's crown and it turned to ash in her hands.

"We have been patient enough with Nikias," Kouen told her that morning as he dressed. "You cannot ignore his silence. He is protecting our enemies and we cannot move on with them still in our midst."

Asta moved in front of him. "It is all he has. Keeping those secrets guarantee his life. There are enemies in our camp, yes, and we can rule out the Kou Empire and Hassah. If you must go, leave the Ionian soldiers behind."

Kouen said nothing in response, only finished dressing. He drank the tea that Hua had prepared them. More soldiers from the Kou Empire were disembarking to occupy Corrin fully. The encampment made for the battle was in the middle of being uprooted and moved to the capital where Kouen would try to restore some sense of normalcy to the country. There was a lot of work to be done and it was true, enough time had been wasted on Nikias' silence.

At the entrance of the tent, Kouen turned to her and said, "You cannot save everyone."

"I'm not going to give up on him. I can't."

"Asta, you have done enough. You either have him speak or he will be made to do so."

"But I can save him. I have to be able to. I cannot abandon him. I won't."

"If you continue down this futile path, you will be hurt." With that final warning, he exited.

Asta hurried into a change of clothes and ran off to the Hassahan camp where she bumped into Stigr on his way across the dividing road between theirs and the Kou Empire's camp. He bowed deeply, greeting her, before he hurried off to his father's workstation.

She returned to Nikias and sat down with him, though she carried the burden of Kouen's words on her shoulders. She didn't let any of it register in her expression as she started to tell him a story, one of the many on which she had grown up with.

During that long afternoon, Nikias smiled at her and she knew without a shadow of a doubt that she couldn't give up on him. She wouldn't.

But every night she dreamed and she was afraid. She feared the meaning of taking Theodora's crown in her hands and the reason as to why it fell apart with the brush of her fingertips. She learned why she saw figures dancing in her castle. She found the path that they represented and it became clear to her. She saw Eris and Nikias twirling in a beautiful hall in celebration of her birthday. Werner confirmed that it was true.

Staring at Nikias' face, she was afraid, more and more so each day.

Perhaps, she understood the reason as to why it made her feel so desperate inside, but she wanted to remain in denial because she had not yet given up on hope.

{ **vii** }

Kouen went to take Nikias away from her, attempted to return him into his custody, but she arrived in the hopes of intervening, having heard about it from Stigr, who caught sight of her husband heading to the Hassahan camp.

She stood between his soldiers and the tent where Nikias' was kept. He asked her nicely once to step out of the way, but she stood her ground. He didn't ask her a thing the second time, he walked to her and grabbed her firmly by the waist, and moved her out of the way.

Melik and Baron stood by, each mouthing an apology to her. She understood why they said nothing. Kouen was right. They were wasting valuable time not learning what needed to be known from Nikias. Nohr would be upon them soon.

Asta didn't struggle in Kouen's arms. She buried her face in his chest, fisting her hands over his clothes, until he released her.

Nikias was removed from inside the tent, Kouen released her, and she took another step back.

"He won't talk."

"Then he will die our enemy."

She refused to speak to Kouen from that day on and he banned her from seeing Nikias for two entire days. Asta moved into Hua's tent and cried the night away inconsolably. Hua tried her best to make her happy, to show her even the slightest hint of a silver lining, but nothing worked. She cried because crying was the only thing she could do in this painful situation. She failed to protect Nikias and he would be tortured as a result.

She wished she could have at least apologized to him for being unable to protect him from further pain. He suffered enough. He didn't need anymore. He needed peace and quiet. He required the love and security of his people.

They had already moved to Atros when Asta had gained the opportunity to see Nikias again. She wasn't speaking to Kouen, though she was advised to reconsider since she was given permission to see Nikias. She planned to stay angry with him until he realized what a stupid mistake he had made. So, she found it odd that she was even allowed to visit given the fact that Kouen had to approve who went in to see him.

The room was stark and small. Nikias sat up against the wall, his wrists and ankles chained. His body roughened up, beaten and bruised from interviews carried out by Nero of Hassah. He was brutal with the Silver Prince. He left him one black eye, still swollen from the damage, and several contusions around his face and chest. She felt sick looking at him. The closer she approached him, the better she was able to assess the damage and it pained her to do so. She couldn't forgive it.

It was an unnecessary method.

"Nikias, I'm—"

"How did you imagine life at Johan Ek's side?" asked Nikias, interrupting her.

"What?"

"It did not resemble this," he continued. "You never imagined you would be in this position. You were willing to give up your crown for a man. You didn't care about abandoning your people. That disappointed them when they learned. There are people who have forgotten their love for you."

She approached him, sitting close to him. "I was blinded by my affection for him, yes," said Asta, "and I regret making the choice that I did when I accepted to elope with Johan. I was being selfish."

"Is that what you are doing now?" he asked. "Are you making up for the mistake you made?"

"I am trying to do what is best for the Byzen Cluster."

"Do you think Ren Kouen is a good man?"

"He is good to me," she responded, though angry as she was with him, he had given her several days to get him the list of names that he wanted. She failed and it resulted in Nikias' tortured imprisonment. She viewed his current condition as her fault. If she had found a way to hurry the process along, they could've avoided this.

"I will stand beside you," said Nikias, raising his eyes to meet with hers pleadingly. "So, please, make them stop hurting me."

Asta shed a tear, nodding, and watched a black trail slip through the corner of Nikias' mouth. Her face twisted with concern and her heart squeezed. He collapsed forward, falling into her arms and hacked up black blood onto her dress. She took him firmly by the shoulders, raising him.

"Nikias."

His body was convulsing, her was gurgling painfully, his body locked—stiff as a board. Her eyes grew wide with horror as she held him tight; she turned toward the door, and shouted, "Baron!"

She heard him chocking and saw the black liquid spill from his mouth, rising and bubbling. She held him as she screamed. She cried while she rocked his body back and forth, and between shouts for Baron, she assured him that everything would be okay. But she knew. Her heart was wound tight and ready to explode, she felt the pain inflicted upon the squeezed appendage so severely that her desperation took hold of her. She couldn't lie to him.

Not anymore.

His eyes rolled back, the black liquid was pouring out of his nose and ears, and she was begging for forgiveness. "Nikias, I'm so sorry."

Her voice was the meekest of whispers. Again and again. She spoke the words. Again and again.

Baron rushed to her side as the spasms stopped and Nikias' body lay motionless, pressed against hers. He knelt down beside them, but at a glimpse, he knew that nothing could be done. He arrived late.

Nikias was dead.


	30. (10) Water Grave - Pt 3

**WATER GRAVE**| NIKIAS TASSOS

_Melik had appeared at the front of Nikias' guestroom in the dead of night. He had spoken a few cryptic words and had invited him to join them to search the Hult Province for the missing queen. Nikias had wanted to accompany them because it would have been a way to continue to repay Asta's kindness, believing her when nobody else would, but his body had been stiff from the pain and the slightest movement had provoked a pulsing of aches across his back. He had not thought himself capable of riding a horse without revealing the consequences of his friendships during the Byzen Festival. The skin of his back had been tender from the lashes his mother had awarded his disobedience and had bled through his nightshirt. He had hid half his body from view at the door, afraid that if Melik were to see, he would question him about them and he would have trouble providing an explanation. _

_It had looked odd. He had seen the inquiry in Melik's dark eyes, as if he had suspected something else was the matter._

_"I can't go," he had said, lowering his eyes to the floor between them. "I'm sorry."_

_Melik had clasped his hand over Nikias' wrapped around the door's edge holding it open and had likely felt the vibrations of it. He had looked into his eyes. "If you have reason to fear for your life, come with me to Hassah, you will be welcomed there."_

_Nikias had felt his eyes go wide. He had felt the laughter escape him as his vision had started to blur. "That's ridiculous. There is no reason that I would fear for my life."_

_The older prince had released his hand and had offered him the tiniest hint of a smile. "Rest easy, Nikias."_

_"I wish you the best of luck tonight."_

_Melik had disappeared down the hallway—his steps silent—when Nikias had sealed the door shut. He had pressed his forehead against the thick wooden door and had felt ashamed by the tears that had betrayed him. Melik's hand had been warm, his words had been earnest, and Nikias had wanted nothing more than to be welcomed elsewhere—far from Corrin and his mother. He had longed to be selfish enough to accept, but he had sisters to worry for and he had not wanted either Eris or Demetr to suffer the punishments he had growing up._

_Io Castle was in an uproar the following morning. He heard about it after dressing. Nikias was helped into a long chiton after his attendant had silently tended to the wounds his mother's rage had left across his back, wrapping a bandage across them in case he bled again. He wore three other layers over the chiton, all patterned and trimmed, with a navy-colored chlamys fastened sideways over his right shoulder._

_He was in the company of his mother while she was getting ready with the help of four attendants, each one aiding her with a different task. He spoke only once, to greet his mother, and then not at all, waiting patiently for her to finish preparing for the day. The attendants were soft spoken, one brushing her hair, another showing her earrings, the third fastening the brooch over the queen's shoulder, and the fourth putting away layers that were not used that day, folding them neatly into a trunk._

_A loud, heavy, and repetitive knock disturbed the silence of their morning. Theodora snarled. She hated Ione enough for personal reasons foreign to him that every little detail, every light disorder, and all that did not go as she wanted were a nuisance. One of her attendants went to answer the door at the queen's order and one of their soldiers entered, exhausted with sweat beaded at his forehead, dripping. The short instant that the door was left ajar, Nikias swore he heard a commotion._

_The soldier bent down on his knee before the queen. "Queen Aquila was found dead, buried in the Hult Province."_

_Theodora's attention snapped to him. "What?"_

_Nikias' heartrate accelerated. They did it. They found Aquila like they said they would. She wasn't gone. It saddened him to hear that she was dead, but that meant Asta and the others were right. Aquila never left the castle to run away with a man. She was there the entire time._

_He couldn't stop his legs from moving him. He sprinted out the door, hearing his mother shout after him. He ran, following the murmur of voices echoing through the long gray halls of Io Castle until they bounced off the walls louder and angrier. Everyone was gathered downstairs in the Great Hall. From the second floor, he spotted Asta, Melik, Ilya, and Baron crowded together in one corner with Octavia weeping into her hands surrounded by her attendants and her country's female champion._

_Hákon, Laurent the King of Lorah, and Miroslava the Queen of Nohr were at the front of the hall arguing heatedly, surrounded by their retainers, servants, and champions. The air around them was stagnant, but vibrating with aggression._

_Nikias ran down the nearest stairs to join his friends, his back throbbing from the strain. Everyone's expression was grim, though the group was welcoming, Nikias took Asta's hand when she reached out to him in greeting, his fingers brushed against her soft palm, but he made a beeline to Octavia._

_"Octavia."_

_The princess raised her puffy-eyed face, her pale cheeks wet with tears, and her vibrant hair was left down. "Nikias," she choked out, moving her hands back to her mouth. "They found her. They found her dead, buried in a shallow grave like an animal. Someone killed her, my mother. Oh my god, what will I tell father?"_

_Nikias found his handkerchief in his pocket and handed it to her. She thanked him softly, taking it from his hand and cried into it, sobbing so loud and painfully that he felt it inside of him as if it were his own heart rattling against his ribcage. "I'm sorry, Octavia, you have my condolences."_

_Tearfully, she thanked him and moved into the arms of one of her retainers. It was an older man with a strict face, narrow eyes with thin eyebrows, and short brown hair._

_Nikias walked back to stand at Asta's side when Theodora entered raucously, insulted that she was the last to know. He looked at Asta, weeping quietly while holding on to Melik's hand. Melik and Baron stared onward at the arguing monarchs, their minds anywhere but that room. Ilya was visibly shaking, his hands fisted at his sides, the knuckles white, his thin eyebrows drawn together above his narrowed green eyes, and his lips were pressed tight. Nikias glanced at Asta, wishing that she would extend her hand to his, so he could feel the comfort of her presence._

_He lowered his gaze to the stone floor, ashamed by the thoughts, and like everyone else listened to their shouting parents in silence._

_"This is a disaster!" remarked Laurent, a thin man with a bushy brown beard that didn't match his wide-eyed gaunt face. "Aquila dead? All this time? The Hult Forests were thoroughly searched! This is preposterous!"_

_"We can assume the body was buried recently," said Miroslava, the enchanting Witch Queen of Nohr. She possessed the ethereal refinement and beauty of a wood nymph with white-blond hair that fell in loose curls down her back and soft green eyes. "It was likely an individual aware of the coming storms. They buried her after the searches concluded so that the storm would not unearth their secret."_

_"What are you implying, Miroslava?" asked Hákon, unimpressed. "Do you think someone in Ione is responsible for her death?"_

_"I am," replied Miroslava, not batting an eyelash._

_"How can we be sure it wasn't you?" demanded Theodora, glaring at Miroslava. "We are all aware Aquila wanted to bind Octavia in marriage to Ilya, but you refused. There must have been a reason."_

_"My son will choose who he marries when he feels the time is right to do so," said Miroslava. "Not all of us treat our children like pawns."_

_Theodora bristled. Nikias saw that his mother swallow down the urge to snap when she smiled, recomposing herself. "Well, that doesn't make you look any better."_

_"I was clear with Aquila when we discussed this. If Ilya was interested in Octavia, I would not be opposed to the marriage, but if he weren't, I would not force him. This does not make me guilty of killing Aquila. In fact, it sets the stage for someone else to frame Nohr for the queen's death. I know no other person that would be so vile as to take advantage of the situation but you."_

_"You are always so quick to blame me, same as always," retorted Theodora. "It amazes me that even at a time like this, your pettiness takes precedence."_

_"Aren't you being a little brazen, Theodora?" asked Laurent. His dark brown hair fell in soft waves to his chin; his crown was golden and gilded with large gemstones. "You spent the greater portion of the festival searching high and low for reason to damn Ione and now you come to its defense?"_

_"It is touching," added Hákon, and then shrugged, "to say the least."_

_"Who is defending you?" spat Theodora. "You are scum! You are an ambitious man that drove his wife insane to justify locking her in a tower! You're mad with the power the Ionian House relented to you! And now, through this festival you planned to take Corrin—use your puppet princess to take it for yourself, my son be damned! But then that wouldn't be—"_

_"Did you not plan to do the same?" argued Hákon. "You too are an ambitious woman. You wish to expand. How wonderful, you said, to have Ione and Corrin unite, but you took one look at my daughter and felt there was much to be desired. A puppet princess, ha! You yourself can't control her—"_

_"Your daughter is a monster!"_

_"SHUT UP!"_

_Nikias felt Ilya push him aside and saw Melik release Asta's hand in an attempt to stop him, but Ilya stomped away to the center of the room. The entire hall was dumbfounded, shocked by the sudden outburst of the quiet prince. Ilya was moody, but he was usually silent._

_"That girl"—Ilya pointed to Asta briefly—"is the only reason we found the queen. All the while you lot twiddled your thumbs and decided a single sloppily written letter was enough confirmation to allow for your quiet departure, Asta begged you to restart your search of the forest and you all refused her."_

_"Ilya, return to your position—"_

_"No, mother, I won't," Ilya interrupted his soft-spoken mother. "Stop wasting time running your mouths and pointing fingers at one another. A woman was found dead today. Someone murdered and buried her in a shallow grave. Perhaps, we are all to blame. Asta shouted it for days that the queen was not gone, that she didn't believe it, that we should search the forest and nobody believed her in time. Those days could have been crucial. We might have found Queen Aquila alive. She could be here and the culprit captured. Instead, you all chose to ignore the ramblings of that child and continued to speak of leaving this disastrous festival behind. You have all failed her! You have all _shat_ on the sanctity of this festival—!"_

_"Ilya—"_

_"—and you all have the gall to pretend that you care for Queen Aquila? Did any of you take the time to know her?" He paused a moment, succeeding in silencing the lot of them. As the short quiet spread, Melik stepped forward silently, stopping short a few steps behind Ilya. "No, you didn't! If you had, you would know that the queen would have never abandoned her child! Never! You would've listened to Asta instead of keeping your thumbs stuck up your—"_

_"Ilya, you have said your piece," interrupted Melik firmly. There was a completely different air about the Hassahan prince—a firm and present one that overwhelmed the senses, as if he dared any one around him to deny his right as king. He appeared powerful, but relaxed, where he stood. His kaftan was caked in mud, his black hair was loose past his upper back in waves, and his eyes were steady and full of emotion. "Be done with it and return to me."_

_Ilya's fisted hands unclenched, as if the firmness in Melik's voice had brought him out of whatever anger-fueled stupor that had possessed him. His shoulders relaxed and he breathed, sucked in one deep intake of air and it released it. His entire body seemed to have exhaled. _

_Theodora turned around completely and Nikias feared what she would say. She was terribly unyielding. "Alas the royal duck speaks," she taunted, staring at Melik. "For so long we wondered if you were versed in any politics since you have been so keen on playing with the children than filling your mother's role."_

_"Leave him alone, you cow," spat Ilya, moving away. "The crowns atop your heads are wasted on you useless kings and queens."_

_Miroslava sighed, not in disappointment, rather relieved that Ilya was returning to them. Theodora and Laurent were visibly scandalized by the insult. Hákon remained unaffected._

_However, Nikias flinched when he saw his mother's rage building inside of her body and felt Asta beside him wrap her arm around his, holding him close to her. He looked down at her and caught her gaze before she face forward, her small face twisted in worry for Melik and Ilya who went to speak on behalf of the dead queen. Even Baron was on edge and Octavia's eyes were fixed on the scene unfolding._

_It didn't matter if Melik answered or not, it would be an insult._

_Melik followed Ilya back to the others. He smiled at them, unfazed. "Let's go."_

_"How dare you?" shouted Theodora. "Stop him! This instant!"_

_Nikias and Asta jolted when the Corrinean soldiers blocked the entrance of the Great Hall. The soldiers of Hassah were quick to react against the threat, but Melik raised his hand in their direction, asking that they lower their weapons with a downward gesture. All of them obeyed, straightening back into their positions, serious._

_"You will ask your soldiers to retreat or I will be forced to mobilize mine," stated Miroslava, glaring viciously at Theodora._

_"Let them go, Theodora," said Hákon, placing his hand atop her shoulder. "You're not going to let a couple of children offend you, are you? You're showing them quite a pitiful sight."_

_Theodora slapped Hákon's hand off her shoulder. "Do not touch me, you disgusting man."_

_"I'm disgusting now, am I?" questioned Hákon suggestively. _

_Laurent watched them all helplessly. _

_Nikias recalled Theodora and Hákon's long meetings in her bedroom. They used to talk for hours._

_"Melik, I'm scared," said Asta, looking up at him with her big blue eyes wide with fright. _

_"There is nothing to be afraid of, not when you have us all here to protect you," answered Melik._

_"Queen Theodora," called Octavia, breaking away from her group. She had patted her cheeks dry. "If you do not ask your soldiers to move, I will ask mine to move them. We are leaving." _

_After saying this, she shot a glance in their direction. Melik smiled at her._

_"Be prudent, Theodora," pled Laurent. "Corrin cannot afford to make an enemy of Nohr and Baryon, you would be breaking the cardinal rules—all of you. It will be the Tzap Incident all over again."_

_That struck a chord with Theodora because she ordered the soldiers to step aside, allowing them the opportunity to exit. Octavia joined them and Sacha's wet nurse, along with the toddler himself, asked if they would allow her to accompany them as the tension and noise was making the little prince cry._

_Nikias followed them because Asta was holding onto his hand, leading him with her. He normally would've looked back to his mother for approval, but that went over his head completely until he heard Theodora call his name._

_"Nikias."_

_It wasn't loud or commanding. It was soft and affectionate, as expected of a mother. It was distastefully saccharine and it stopped him dead in his tracks as if a rope had been looped around him and bound him. He froze up. He couldn't defy her. His back ached from the lashes he earned after sleeping over with the others. _

_His mother had punished him because she had not liked him being around Melik or Asta. She had deemed them unworthy of his attention—Melik and Baron from the start, saying that he would have gained nothing from that lousy desert country and Asta had happened after she had learned about Ingrid. She had only given him permission to be with them an hour, but he had had so much fun watching Melik and Ilya bickering while Baron tried helplessly to stop them that he had neglected time. Asta had listened to him tell stories until he had grown so drowsy he had fallen asleep in the large room with the others._

_In the morning, after he had returned to his shared accommodations with his mother, she had been waiting, seated at the foot of his bed, legs crossed one over the other at the knee. The knotted ends of the cat o' nine tails fell over the edge of the bench where she was seated and he had known what awaited him. She had ridiculed him the entire time she had flogged him and he had cried until he had passed out from the pain of having his skin seared off his back._

_The punishment would be worse if he disobeyed her. He tasted bile on his tongue and his fear was crippling. He couldn't move. He looked at the others staring back at him, waiting for him to make up his mind. Asta squeezed his hand reassuringly, tightening her grip on his, as if she were promising never to let him go, but he didn't look at her, no, he was terrified and shaking, and he knew that she couldn't save him. He looked at Melik._

_Melik wordlessly walked back to him, standing before him with the same reassuring smile he gave everyone. The Hassahan prince slid his hands underneath Nikias' armpits and hoisted him up into his arms. _

_Nikias flushed, embarrassed that he, a boy of eleven, was being carried out of the Hall like a child. His heart was hammering loudly in his head as he watched his mother's expression turn dark, but he wrapped his arms around Melik, safe with them all, far from his mother's cruelty._

_There was a distinct air of relief once they were away from the commotion and seated in a large sitting room with tall arched windows and heavy violet drapes. The wet nurse let Sacha wobble around the room curiously after she managed to get him to stop crying and watched him from her position by one of the windows. There were several shelved full of books bolted against one wall and three long tables in front of them with chairs. Everyone was crowded around the couches situated atop of a Lorahian produced rug._

_Ilya sat with his face in his hands, slumped over one couch's arms and mumbled repeatedly underneath his breath. Baron was braiding Melik's hair forcefully as the elder brother complained. Nikias stayed by Asta's side, both of them occupied one of the smaller couches where they sat comfortably. _

_"I want to know why none of you stopped me earlier," Ilya told them, frowning. "I went out there and almost made an enemy of Corrin, Lorah, _and_ Ione! And you all let me do that!"_

_"To be fair, I did intervene," said Melik._

_"Not soon enough!"_

_"I appreciated your words, Ilya," said Octavia. "You weren't wrong in anything that you said. Asta did warn everyone and we all ignored her."_

_Nikias noticed Asta's eyes were shining. _

_"What will I do? I have brought shame to my father's crown!" shouted Ilya. "He will disown me! For this! I even insulted my mother! My mother! Have you any idea what that means? I am a terrible human being! How could I? How could this happen?"_

_"Well, if you are disowned then that leaves us no choice," he said, drawing Ilya's pale green eyes to his face. He reached to pat him on the back reassuringly and wore the most innocent smile._

_"What?" asked Ilya. "No choice in what?"_

_"Marry me and we will live happily in Hassah or the world, you pick, I live to serve you, my king," said Melik, laughing boisterously._

_Octavia frowned._

_Ilya pushed his face away. "Who is marrying you, you shameless man?"_

_Baron took Melik by the ear and pulled him back, making the older prince shout in complaint. "Ow!"_

_"I thought I told you to stop teasing Ilya!" snapped Baron._

_"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! It hurts! Baron! Baron, please, stop! No—don't twist! Don't twist! Baron, please! I'm sorry!"_

_"Apologize to Ilya, not me, you stupid brother!"_

_Baron released Melik to do so, but Ilya turned away when the older prince started to speak._

_"I will not listen to the shallow apologizes of a man that will not get on his knees to apologize for the offense," said Ilya, his nose up in the air and his arms crossed over his chest._

_Melik got on the floor and begged for his forgiveness. Ilya laughed as he did._

_Octavia glared at Melik as he rose up to sit down._

_"You are all terrible influences on young Nikias and Asta," cried Melik into a goblet of sweet wine. He served himself once Ilya accepted his apology, though the Ilya threatened to take it back seeing how blasé he was acting. "My ear feels like it'll fall off and my ego cannot take any more humiliation."_

_"If anyone is a terrible influence, it is you," said Baron, sitting squished between his brother and Ilya._

_"All I wanted was to love you, my sweet dark prince," cooed Melik. Baron elbowed him in the side, making him spill a bit of wine on his shirt. "Baron! No! Do you know how hard it is to get wine off this fabric?"_

_"Why don't you cry into your wine quietly for once!" snapped Ilya. "You're insufferable!"_

_Asta and Nikias smiled at one another, amused._

_Octavia walked up to Asta, crouching down in front of her with her eyes still red from all of her tears she had wept._

_"I have to ask," started Octavia, the mood turning serious, "how did you know where to find my mother?"_

_Asta shrunk in her seat, hesitant to speak._

_Nikias peered up at Octavia. He wanted to say that it wasn't okay to ask the question because he sensed Asta's discomfort, but he knew that Octavia had a right to know about what happened to her mother. Asta had answers. _

_"The truth of it is that we don't know how she knew only that she did," said Melik, setting his goblet of wine down atop the oval table between the couches. _

_"But you'd told me before that you were afraid of her and that you should've listened," said Octavia, reaching to clasp one of Asta's hands. Asta winced and bit down on her lip, trembling. "You weren't making that up! You can't have made that up! So where did you see her? Why were you afraid? Why didn't you listen?"_

_Asta dissolved into tears immediately, grabbing Octavia's hand with both of hers. "I said I was sorry!" she cried, her cheeks red. "I told her that I was sorry that I didn't listen! She said it was okay! She just wants to go home! She wants to go home to Ennio!"_

_Octavia's eyes were wide. "She told you that? How is she speaking to you? How do I know that you're not lying?"_

_Asta released Octavia's hand and grabbed her head, inclining forward as she started to sob, repeating the words, "Please, stop."_

_"Asta!" called Nikias, worried._

_She repeated the words over and over and over, each time louder and louder._

_Everyone drew near out of concern, calling out her name, and Nikias waved his hands around, squeezing in between Asta and the others. "You're crowding her! Let her breathe!"_

_Slowly, they all stepped aside. Nikias did too and they watched and listened to her unable to do much for her to make whatever seemed to have seized her go away. It took several minutes for her chanting to subside, volume lowering until they were mere murmurs, and then silence. She collapsed on her side, eyes sealed shut, breathing hard at first and then easy, as if she were at the end of a painful fit. _

_The entire room felt it, a sense of relief that she passed out and was no longer behaving strangely—that she was no longer suffering that paralyzing fear._

_"What is wrong with the princess?" asked Sacha's wet nurse. She was holding the squirming child in her arms as she looked in their direction. _

_Melik took a blanket he found tossed over the back of one of the couches and draped it over Asta, pulling her legs up on the cushions to allow her the rest she needed. Nikias assumed that none of them had much of an opportunity for rest after discovering the body. They were wearing clothes that had dried but were dirty and wrinkled._

_"There is nothing wrong with her," said Melik. "She is special, but it appears that she has not yet realized it." He faced all of them. "I do believe that she has contributed enough as is, to expect more out of her would be cruel. I'm sorry for saying this, Octavia."_

_Octavia's eyes saddened as she looked down upon Asta. "I agree, she's just a little girl after all. Does that kind of magic exist? The one that allows you to see these sorts of things?"_

_"Clairvoyance Magic," answered Ilya. "However, whether she is using it or a variation of it is to be determined. Ione rarely sees the birth of any magic users. Of course, that isn't reason enough to strike out the possibility."_

_"You seem to know plenty about it, Melik," commented Octavia._

_"Only what I was told," said Melik. "Someone told me that I would meet a girl with a gift."_

_Octavia stood, turning to them all. "You have my gratitude," she said, inclining her head. "Had you not been there to support Asta, my mother would have never been found and I would have never been able to bring her home." She sniffled. "For that I am truly grateful."_

_Nikias felt guilty about not going with them that he looked to the ground._

_"You will have to thank Asta," said Baron. "She did the work."_

_"I will. Once she gets enough sleep, I shall." Octavia wiped at her eyes, looking to them all with a curious brow. "You are all overdue some rest it would seem. Please, see to it that you get some."_

_Octavia excused herself. There was so much going on in her mind that she had no time to spare. She was recovering from the shocking development, weeping still as she departed the room. She needed more comfort than any one present could offer her. She needed her people who knew her and understood her best; she needed that pillar to remain strong in this horrible situation._

_"Will Asta be okay?" asked Nikias._

_"She's exhausted," answered Baron. "She only needs to rest."_

_"You should sleep too, Nikias, you look tired," suggested Melik. "You have nothing to worry about here."_

_He believed that as long as he was with them, he wouldn't, but he'd have to go back to his mother eventually. He wouldn't be safe then. He considered going back to her, but he wanted to be there when Asta woke up to ask her personally if she was feeling better. He wanted to stay close because that's where he felt safest._

_He promised the others that he would only close his eyes for a few minutes. He wanted to be woken if anything happened or if Asta opened her eyes, but he slept. _

_Nikias slept deeply and soundly, at peace and dreamt of hopeful things. He woke up the following morning with a sticky paste on his back and in a room that smelled of the wood shavings and desert flowers and sweet mead that reminded him of the Buhari brothers. He lifted his head alert, lying flat on his stomach._

_"Stay still, Nikias," said Baron, appearing within his limited line of vision. "You have poorly treated lashes on your back. They'll scar horribly that way."_

_Nikias wanted to cry in shame. His eyes filled with tears and his lips trembled. "Please, you can't tell anyone."_

_"I won't. You have Melik's word as well. However, we cannot sit idly while you are treated in such a manner."_

_"My mom, she's just tired and this helps her—she doesn't mean it, promise!"_

_It hurt. It hurt until it healed. It was better after. His mother was frightening, but she was loving too. She was angry in Ione. She never wanted to come to the Byzen Festival and Nikias would've made the trip alone if he had been old enough. He could've waited for Nohr and go along with his aunt, but his mother and the Queen of Nohr were not on good speaking terms. Their kingdom was peaceful. His mother needed that peace. That was why she was so angry here. He disobeyed her too. It was his fault entirely._

_Baron sighed. "Melik said it before, I'll say it again, come with us to Hassah if you fear for your life."_

_Nikias felt refreshed after Baron wiped the paste off and bandaged him up. He urged him to return to him for as long as necessary to have his back treated before he decided to go back to his mother to Corrin. There was no question about it. He would go back to Corrin, tempting as it was to escape. He couldn't leave his sisters. How could that ever be an option?_

_The door to the room opened and Asta sprung into view with her two guards following close behind, the dark-skinned man called Aghi trailing a few steps behind the tall blond one named Vilhelm. Nikias was jealous of their ability to overcome their terrible injuries and walk about so normally. They were down in the Physician's Tower for quite some time. He visited them often when Asta invited him. He remembered her being scared for their lives. She cared deeply for them. He could see that she was the same with others._

_Asta jumped into the bed to sit in front of him and took his hands. Her pale, freckled face was so close to his that he felt himself blush and her eyes were big and shining with concern. "Nikias, I was worried about you! I'm so happy to see you're okay!"_

_It was the other way around for him, but he couldn't manage the words. _

_"Princess, you should be heading down to breakfast," said Aghi._

_Asta pretended not to hear him, very obviously, and beamed at Nikias. Aghi let his head hang, shocked by the fact that she ignored him. _

_Vilhelm sighed. "Princess, breakfast."_

_"Oh right," said Asta. "Won't you come eat with us, Nikias? You're feeling better aren't you?"_

_Nikias agreed to go. Asta went on ahead with her guards to give Nikias the opportunity to redress. He left with Baron, who waited for him outside._

_"Did something happen with Asta and her guard?" asked Nikias, curious as they walked down the hallway._

_"Oh, that, well, Asta appears to have a crush on Nero, and well, Nero and Aghi have been on friendly terms since they were introduced," said Baron, laughing a little. "She's a little jealous of the attention Aghi is getting."_

_"Oh, I see."_

_It wasn't quite that he was disappointed about learning this. Asta continuously referred to him as a friend and they were friends and he planned to make sure that they would stay friends for a very long time—even if that seemed impossible with how Hákon was being criticized by the other kingdoms. But…not too long ago, they were going to be married when they were older. He didn't like the idea when his mother presented it to him, but he didn't have a choice either. Meeting Asta made the difference. She wasn't anything like what he expected. She was pretty and bright, strong and brave. She was kind to everyone, her soldiers and servants same as her equals. Everyone was important to her. He started to feel that he wouldn't mind it if she was his wife when they were older. They could be friends forever if she was._

_He wasn't disappointed, but maybe he was. A little bit. In that little dark patch in his heart where all the bad things went, he felt it._

_Baron put his hand on Nikias' head, musing his hair. "It's only a crush."_

_Nikias bit down on his lip embarrassed by how transparent he was being that he announced that he was going on ahead and ran off. He didn't go on ahead. No, he was drawn upstairs another level to where his guest quarters were located in search of his mother. The mood was morbid downstairs. A body was found, a new mystery was unfolding. Everyone was a suspect because everyone wanted to get ahead by making good connections. The Byzen Cluster did this every so often. His parents met during a Festival. His mother was born to a noble family in Nohr. There were rumors that she wanted to marry the king because she was in love with him, but that the king fell in love with her sister instead and that that's the reason they didn't speak anymore. _

_His mother had a lot of troubles after that. Her marriage was arranged to Kyros, Nikias' father, but Kyros was in love with Ingrid, Asta's mother. Nikias' grew up hearing all of his father's fond stories about Ingrid and he knew there was affection there and that it bothered his mother because every time he told him one, Theodora turned cold. It was easy to see that his parents weren't happy, but he was happy they were together because one could not be without the other. They were destined to be together._

_Theodora sat in front of a squared mirror with one of her attendants brushing her silver hair with great care. She saw him enter the room in the reflection of the mirror and he saw her face there as well, beautiful, cold, and composed. She waved her hand and dismissed her attendant, who exited the room so fast she had noisily left the hairbrush on a table by the door._

_Nikias lowered his head apologetically as Theodora rose, graceful, from her seat and approached him. She tugged up her long white skirts and bent down on one knee so she stood a head shorter than he did. He anticipated the worst. Always. His feet were heavy and planted firmly on the hard ground. Escape was futile. His back ached, all the scabbing strips across it seemed to be tearing apart._

_"Come here, Nikias," she spoke softly, opening her arms wide for him to walk into them. She embraced him, avoiding the sore areas of his back as she held him lovingly close. "Forgive my unsightliness, you were scared of my behavior in the Hall and properly so that you did not wish to return to your room. Forgive me, my sweet prince, I shall never act in such a manner again."_

_She kissed his cheek and drew back, her pink lips smiling. She kept her hands wrapped around his upper arms. "Let us return home, Nikias. Let us go back to your father. Remaining here is useless. The festival was a disaster. We did what we could as allied countries, but Hákon is too power hungry to relent. He will drive Ione to the ground."_

_"What about Queen Aquila?" he asked, wishing to find a reason—any at all—to prolong their stay. He wanted to stay. He wanted to learn more about Asta. He wanted to spend more time to play with her. "What about Asta? What about the others?"_

_"It was decided by myself and the others that it will be ruled an accident," said Theodora._

_"An accident? But she was killed! She was killed and she was buried! Someone did that to her! We have to find them!" he cried, wincing when he felt his mother's grip tightened. _

_"We cannot afford to go to war," his mother stressed._

_"This isn't about that!" shouted Nikias. "It isn't! It is about Queen Aquila! She's a queen!"_

_"There are circumstances surrounding her death that are a mystery to us and that we do not dare tamper with magic to learn because of what it would mean to the Byzen Cluster if we were to find out if Nohr, Lorah, Ione, Corrin, Hassah, or Baryon itself was responsible for the queen's death. We cannot go to war amongst ourselves. It would destroy us." Theodora released him and rose. "You are too young to understand now what it means to rule each kingdom and what years of amicability have given us, but it is a peace that is so fragile at this moment that we cannot afford to shatter with this death. Yes, a queen is dead, but she is only a woman now. She is no longer a queen. She is going home to be buried by her family and we will all depart Ione putting this nightmare behind us and hope, hope to every god that Hákon does not further disrupt the peace of the Cluster."_

_"But mother—!"_

_She slapped him across the face._

_"Stop it, Nikias! Stop it this instant! You're behaving like that child now!" she snapped, her expression wild. "Asta has been a horrid influence! They have all influenced you badly! This is why I told you to stay away from them! Look at how they have encouraged you to behave! You shout at your mother, you ignore her, you run away from her, you make me punish you! This was a wasted journey! I told your father, I said we should not attend, but he insisted! Something is wrong in Ione, he said! All he cares about is that crazy whore in the tower! She! She is the reason we are here! Because your father cannot forget her! She took him from me! She's never let me have him!" His mother's eyes filled with tears as she dropped back down in front of Nikias, grabbing hold of him and pulling him into a tight embrace. "We would've been happy if she did not exist! She shouldn't exist! And that child! The devil take her! It is what this country does! They steal! She took Kyros' love! Hákon threatens to take Corrin! And you! My precious prince, my sweet prince, Asta wishes to take you from me!"_

_Nikias tried to wiggle out of her arms, but his mother held him tight. His heart was hammering wildly in his chest. Did they do that? Are they the ones to blame for his mother's pain? Is it because they hurt her that she hurts him? He couldn't believe it. He met Ingrid. She was beautiful like the sun and Asta was a ray of light. They were kind. They wouldn't do this. Why would they hurt his mother? What had she done to them?_

_He watched his mother weep inconsolably and wondered seriously if they were to blame. _

_The news of ruling Aquila's murder as an accident did not sit well with everyone. By breakfast, everyone was aware that it was what needed to be done because it would prevent war. Even Melik was powerless against that argument, furious as he was in accepting it, he didn't have a choice. Octavia was outraged, but as the princess of the smallest of the Cluster kingdom and the weakest, she didn't have the power to protest._

_Hákon declared the festival over, officially, and the entire room fell silent as he had because something had changed that morning. Nikias felt it the entire time that he was helping his attendants pack his things into the trunks that he brought from Corrin. He tasted it in the last conversations he shared with the friends he made for such a short time. He saw it in the terse ambience surrounding Laurent, Miroslava, and Theodora when they approached Hákon, who appeared bright and unfazed. _

_He couldn't pinpoint what that feeling was or what it felt like apart from losing. He felt gutted. Horribly defeated. The others shared the sentiment. They were downtrodden._

_Melik and Baron offered Nikias an escape in their kingdom, but he politely refused them. The two bowed to him and departed to bid farewell to Ilya, who appeared moodier than ever. Asta was in the presence of the Hassahan hero, Nero, and her face was beet red. He presented her with flowers, patted her head goodbye before he slipped through the crowd to bid farewell to the princess' guard, whose hand he kissed in a way that made Aghi panic, though it was mostly because Asta saw it all._

_Nero was a handsome, charming man with a manly aura. His hair was jet-black and cropped short, his features were strong, and his build was a little lean, but powerful. He possessed all the visual qualities that Asta admired and Nikias desired if it meant having her feel that way about him. He stepped forward to Asta, distracting her from glaring at Aghi._

_"Asta."_

_Asta's face brightened when she looked at him and she rushed to meet him halfway. She surprised him with a hug, but released him too quick for him to hold her even a second. She took him by the hand and looked him in the eyes. "Will you promise to write?"_

_He nodded. This girl would never do anything to hurt his mother. "I promise."_

_She lowered her gaze, the joy draining from her face. "I was sad about everyone leaving after I got to know you all, but I think it is better that way."_

_"Why? I don't want to leave you," said Nikias, his face heating upon realizing his slip. He didn't mean that. It was all in his head. Her kindness made him make this mistake._

_"Nobody is safe here."_

_"Nobody?" _

_She shook her head. "It's better if everyone goes home. Because"—she sniffled, her eyes filling with tears—"even if we knew who killed Aquila, it doesn't matter. Nothing matters."_

_"Asta…"_

_"Ah, there you are, Asta."_

_Nikias raised his eyes to see Hákon approach Asta from behind and pick her up into his arms. He looked at her tearful face as she hurried to wipe them away as if she were afraid to be seen crying. "Aww, it seems as though she will miss you, Nikias."_

_"Farewell, King Hákon," said Nikias._

_"Indeed, farewell, Silver Prince," said Hákon. "It is a shame about the contract. I do think you would have made a good match for my little princess."_

_Hákon took Asta from him. His heart sank to his belly as he watched her go, waving goodbye to him. He was drawn to her. She was so small, but she was bursting with goodness. She made him feel something that he never felt in himself before. He felt a tiny spark expand in him into a thrilling explosion of emotion that filled him with warmth. She made him feel important. To her. To others. To the world. _

_Not just to his mother, who considered everyone an enemy._

_He was important. He was worth something._

_He wanted that. To have that. Whatever it was that she possessed. He wanted it for himself. _

_Theodora came for him. She took his hand and led him back with her to the dark._

_Nikias turned his back on the others, having said farewell to them all. The ship departing to Corrin was first. Their luggage was stored in it along with a few souvenirs they acquired during the festival. He boarded his ship with his mother, their attendants, and small guard and he watched the coastline shrink as the distance between Ione and their ship increased. _

_Everyone departed with a secret and a lie. The secret was that a murder happened in Ione during the Byzen Festival and the lie was that it was an accident. The truth would die with everyone._

_That's what happened._

Nikias longed to be a little honest. He had.

He wanted to grow up. He had.

He wished to reunite with Asta. He had.

He desired to charm her. He hadn't. He did everything but inspire affection in her, and if for an instant, he had, he had not deserved it. She futilely tried to help him as if help was the only thing he needed. Death had the peace he deserved. He committed so much wrong that it had only been right to go down that route.

He planned to marry her. He hadn't. He never would. She was taken by another as a wife. A far better man, he hoped in the back of his mind. She deserved the best. The brave girl he had met at the festival had to find a man that could love her more than life itself. He yearned for that for her.

He had arrangements for a long happy life alongside her and had decided that he would rather die before she did, knowing the he could not stand the thought of losing her first. His happy made-up life alongside that girl she had been crumbled.

He hated her. It was the only way to make her hate him.

He wept at her stubbornness in finding any redeeming qualities in him. He did not intend to tell her who his connections had been to her camp. He did it out of jealous, of her and her husband. He resented both. She should have waited for him. (She had no choice.) Ren Kouen of the Kou Empire should have found a bride elsewhere. (He saw Asta first.) And yet, he saw a different strength in her bloom because of that man. He cursed Kouen.

He should not have been so stubborn when Nero approached him for information, but he had hated Nero all of his life. He didn't want to say a word to him, but the beatings and the torture had been worse than what his mother had subjected him to over the years. In those long hours, Nikias only yearned to see Asta's beautifully freckled face.

And when he did…entering the room with a halo of pale blond hair around her head and her eyes sympathetic of his plight, he had felt an ache in his chest. He should have known that he would be killed. He would have cracked eventually. He planned to do it now, they weren't wrong, but he had not wanted to die in front of her.

Asta deserved better that to have him be used as a message to her.

He wanted to be honest and tell her the truth. All of it. From start to finish.

Her tears were cold splatters against his face. He regurgitated the poison as she cradled him in her arms, touching his face so lovingly that he wanted to cry. His body was out of his control before he realized it was and he knew Baron would not make it to him in time. He ingested the poison long ago in a goblet of wine that had been offered to him by a face of innocence. He didn't like wine. He hated it, but he drank it to forget and he wanted to forget.

Ah.

He saw the light shining around her grow brighter and he knew. He knew that she would keep him with her in death like she had collected the others standing at her back waiting for him.

And it was done.

Death.

**WATER GRAVE** | END


	31. (11) Shadow Mirage - Pt 1

**ELEVEN**: Shadow Mirage

* * *

**Hassah**

_The Road._

The Kingdom of Hassah, being a country comprised primarily of merchants, is responsible for all commerce coming in and out of the Byzen Cluster. Hassah owns all of the safe trading routes across the Cluster, connecting their kingdom to the rest of the kingdoms, and a few other routes that run across the world. Merchants from the Cluster use their routes for a fee.

The merchants of Hassah have more contact with foreign countries than the rest of the Cluster kingdoms. Trading between countries outside of the Cluster is handled exclusively by the most skilled and knowledgeable merchants in Hassah.

Hassah is the wealthiest country in the Byzen Cluster. Their contribution to the Cluster ensures economic circulation throughout it.

* * *

**xl**: Please excuse the tardiness of this chapter. I normally post sometime around 5AM my time, but I've been sick, so I've switched back to normal sleeping habits. That and it took a long time to edit this monster chapter. I think this is the longest chapter that I have written to date. It is almost 9PM on Saturday here, so this still counts as a Saturday update.

I do hope that you enjoy the chapter.

Now, I would like to formally thank the following people for reviewing: **De hearts 26**, **Wanderstar**, **Hakuryuukun** (x2), **grimxichixshiroxmomoxorixx** (x2), **Lavina**, **Renhoa0.0** (x2), **UnicornAkashi**, **Rakuen91**, **yourhappyplace**, **SpaceSylph**, and **twistedlittledoll**. This is for both the previous chapter(s) and the Ch 10 Extra.

Thank you to those that humored my request in the previous chapter! For those that don't know about it, refer to the previous chapter for information and tell me if you'd like. I am very amused by the responses. :)

Sorry for not replying to reviews or messages lately! I will do so properly this time around!


	32. (11) Shadow Mirage - Pt 2

**SHADOW MIRAGE **| REN KOUEN

[ **i** ]

Kouen thought about his wife with increasing frequency. He found plenty of overlooked details of her persona during his earlier observations and felt that he was beginning to understand Asta. Although, she displayed strange behavioral patterns from time to time that baffled him, they were fostering an amicable relationship faster than anticipated. It was more than what would be expected of an arranged marriage like theirs and she appeared to him determined in seeing that they lay the foundation for a harmonious union.

However, it bothered him, as any nuisance would, that Asta was obstinately naïve. He warned her against making plays that would hurt her sensitive heart, but she insisted without fail (and many times wordlessly proclaimed) that she believed that everyone could be saved. He heard about the attempt made against her life from Baron and learned that she had taken it hard, not the fact that she was nearly killed, but that she had ordered the offenders executed.

She understood that death was the only viable punishment when they had come so close to leaving her dead, but he was never clear on why she had an issue with it until she had asked him if doing such things became easier with time. It had been the first time she had given her soldiers that order.

Kouen supposed Asta had felt guilty over not finding a way out of sentencing them to death.

Everyone could be saved. It was practically her motto. She wished to protect everyone. That part of her, at the very least, he could admit to admiring. Frightened as she was shouldered with new responsibility, she was driven by her honest desire to shield everyone from unnecessary harm, though she took it a step too far and Kouen felt a need to remind her.

Not everyone could be saved. Circumstances varied. Sacrifices were necessary. Fate.

Asta had focused all of her efforts in repairing her fractured relationship with Nikias before she had spent any minute thinking of what she had needed from him. She had wanted to take all of the steps needed to reach a compromise with the stubbornly silent prince—build a solid relationship before she even considered asking for his secrets. The secrets that he protected were all that he had according to her.

For a spell, he had believed in her. He had allowed her to handle him for as long as he could spare, but with the Nohrian threat closing in on them fast, he had wanted to end their Corrin chapter in order to pursue the next. Asta had thrown her version of a tantrum. She had subjected him to the silent treatment and had gone to sleep in her attendant's tent, though he had been more than aware that it had disappointed Asta to learn that her methods of protests were ineffective against him. Her tenacity had been amazing, to say the least, but he had not found it amusing.

He hadn't cared that she had been crossed with him. She had to learn this hard lesson even if it meant making an enemy of everyone that had contradicted her naivety. Not everyone could be saved.

Kouen had been among the first to hear Asta yell Baron's name. There had been a shrill, desperate quality clinging to her voice and he could not have imagined the sort of panic she had been experiencing that had made her repeatedly cry out for Baron. Each time she had, her voice had broken more.

He had allowed Asta special permission to see Nikias because the prince had asked to speak to her, vowing to Nero of Hassah that he would tell Asta everything and no one else. Kouen had been in a room across the hall where Nikias had been kept with one of his subordinates and Egil awaiting a response from Asta to arrive.

Baron was there, crouched down beside Asta and Nikias, when Kouen entered the room, Melik rushing in shortly. Asta was cradling Nikias' limp body in her arms and crying helplessly.

"Somebody did this to him," she blurted tearfully. "Someone wanted him dead! He was in danger, he knew, and he's dead! He's dead!"

Baron pried Asta away from Nikias and laid the prince's body on the ground flat. He took a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed away at the dark liquid oozing out of Nikias' mouth, nose, and ears. He brought it up to his nose as it seeped into the cloth turning it a violet shade and took a whiff.

"This is serious," said Baron, not a moment later.

Melik approached Asta's side, crouching down next to her. He placed a hand on her shoulder and she moved into his arms, crying noisily. Melik cast a curious glance in Kouen's direction, but he held the small young woman close, comforting her with whispered words.

Kouen left the room to order a lock down on the palace and a list of the names of the guards that had been posted around the room. He sent another batch of his subordinates to start preparing for an announcement, as the death of the prince was not something they could hide long. Baron followed him out, shutting the door to Nikias' prison.

"Anyone remotely familiar with flora, have them added to the list," suggested Baron. "This was a powerful poison."

"Do you know what kind it was?"

"Yes," he answered. "I ask that you leave all of the preparations for his burial to me and for you to be present when I inspect the body. We can find out quite a bit."

Kouen nodded.

He walked down the long corridor out into the main hall of the palace growing increasingly frustrated by the reversion Nikias' death provoked in the grander scheme of things. There was still a mole among them and they were virtually invisible to the magicians of his country. Nikias was the last link to exposing whoever was passing information. He planned to tell Asta. Whoever poisoned him knew that he would spill his secrets, but there was nobody apart from himself and Nero present when Nikias' had vowed to give them the information they wanted.

He thought for a moment reminded of some of Melik's words in accordance to Asta's plight. Kouen had said criticized Asta for not being old enough to distinguish between those that could be saved and those that couldn't. Melik had responded simply, _"I think it is because she is so familiar with the notion that she is so determined to save him." _He had gone on to reveal Asta's gift to "see" things.

Asta had been worried about poison. Nikias' died poisoned. She had focused her attention on Kouen, asking that he drink only from the stores they had back on in the supply ships. Kouen wondered now if she had made a mistake. She had seen it all wrong. She had worried for his life instead of Nikias. Or had it been as Melik said it, that she had carried the burden of another's imminent demise on her shoulders, knowing only that it could happen to anyone.

Kouen couldn't justify faulting her mistake. She feared her gift to the point she didn't accept it. She didn't control what she saw or how it presented itself to her. He had no knowledge of how it worked and he had plans to find out. He had developed a keen interest in what having someone of that ability meant for the Kou Empire, especially someone trained.

There were ultimately more unanswered questions surrounding his wife than there were the opposite. He believed that to find answers, he would need to accept her. He had on the surface, in the barest definition of the word. He had agreed to marry her and he had agreed to make her the mother of his children and he had agreed to elevate her country by making it a part of the Kou Empire, and he had promised her the respect, safety, and cordiality one would have with their spouse. He had no interest in her. He had not chosen her out of personal affection. He had picked her among others because her army excelled in the art of war and the position of the Byzen Cluster would become advantageous in the future when it came time to spread their conquest onto the Reim Empire.

However, his first impression of Asta had been poor. She had been the complete opposite of what expectations for a monarch in the militant Ione were. Ione's long succession line had featured powerful queens and that had offered him a semblance of hope in who he would be taking on as wife (as she had been presented to him as a mystery by the envoy sent to Ione). She wasn't that person. He had realized that the instant she had come into his presence. She had been small, plain, and quiet. Her presence had been meek. She had a naïve personality and a childish outlook in life. She had not been versed in war as the generations that had come before her. She had been a target of people's cruelty and impulse. There had been much to be desired from her, but he had accepted her for the benefits that he'd reap from their marriage.

He asked himself now. What did he know of the fair princess he married? Observations and word of mouth. There were plenty of both. He recalled that Asta, quite timidly, said that they should make things work between them—establish a stable foundation for them to stand on as husband and wife. She had a point. He saw that then. He viewed a need for it now as that base had begun to form with efforts on both of their sides. He would be married to her for the rest of his life and if that groundwork didn't exist, it would be a miserable marriage. He could bear it. Their obligations to each other weren't all that hard to see through quickly and once fulfilled, there would be little need for their marriage to be any more than a convenient union.

Somewhere down the line, his opinion changed. They had been married a year, but had only known each other for less than a quarter of one. It pleased him to see that his first impressions of her weren't completely right. She wasn't disappointing. She wasn't an idiot—in fact, she displayed a knack for retaining information and the ability to learn and adapt quickly. They spoke with more frequency since they had made the trip to Corrin, in the mornings and evenings, though most conversation had been about the Corrinean Conflict. There was a shift in subject matter recently, he was learning about her and she was asking questions about him—insignificant details about what he liked and things of a similar vein. There were similarities there, the kind that made her pale eyes sparkle and her lips curve into a pretty smile.

He could understand the appeal she had with others—the reason people loved her. It was those moments, in the quiet ones as she talked softly to him and glowed with the smallest hint of excitement, where she made him feel as if she would look at no other person but him. In that tiny world she created, she existed with him alone. It would be difficult for anyone not to be charmed by that unconscious quality of hers. She could make one feel quite important.

Kouen refocused his attention on finding the culprit responsible for Nikias' death. He was informed shortly that the announcement of the prince's death was to be made in half an hour by Asta. It surprised him, but he decided to leave it in her hands while he proceeded to put the entire castle on lockdown. It took him a few minutes to accomplish the feat and kept the building under constant surveillance. Everyone would be investigated.

He went to accompany Asta to make the announcement. She was accompanied by her two guards and her attendant. The raven-haired woman was dabbing away at the princess' tears. Asta didn't look capable of speaking more than a few words without falling apart. Her eyes were puffy and red, her voice was broken and weak. She noticed him and dismissed those around her to approach him.

"If you do not feel well enough to make the announcement, I can take your place," he told her.

"I can do it," she said, blinking away another tear. He believed her.

"Very well."

The exterior castle in Atros consisted of a grand courtyard where Kouen had learned that royal decrees were often read to the country's attending denizens. The courtyard sat in front of a wide hundred-step staircase that led to a simple white stage, two pillars on each end and in the back the entrance to the extravagant palace. There were several trees aligning the edges of the courtyard and two rows of his soldiers stationed at the foot of the steps to draw a safe line between the angered citizens and his wife. There were other soldiers present, hidden behind the trees. Rioting was expected.

A light rain fell upon the white ground. He and Asta were provided umbrellas. From this distance, the people wouldn't be able to see Asta's face, which would work either in her favor or against it.

"Speak loudly and clearly," he advised.

Asta nodded. She stepped forward and her attendant followed close behind, keeping the umbrella over her head. Off to the side, Kouen could see Melik and Baron standing next to one another behind a pillar. Behind the other pillar were Werner and Egil, alongside one of the generals of his army.

"P-People of Corrin!" started Asta, visibly shaking, swallowed up by the colorful robes of the Kou Empire. "I am Princess Asta of Ione!"

A swell of voices clouded into an inquiring murmur that swept through the crowd. Unforgiving eyes zeroed in on the small girl addressing them shrinking further. Her voice faltered the next she spoke and dropped her volume so only an incomprehensible echo reached the people. She moved forward nervously. Her attendant took another step towards her, head lowered, to keep the umbrella on her.

"I am not your enemy! I am n-not here as your enemy!" she anxiously babbled. "As such, I cannot hide what occurred this morning! Prince Nikias has—"

"THE PRINCE IS DEAD!" someone in the crowd shouted. Kouen turned in the general direction, but wasn't able to pinpoint the culprit when another man shouted the same words from another side of the crowd.

"KILLED BY THE KOU EMPIRE AND IONIAN SCUM!"

Asta stared helplessly at a complete loss of words. She was done. She wouldn't be able to continue.

"THEY KILLED OUR PRINCE!"

"OUR PRINCE IS DEAD!"

"HASSAH HAS JOINED THE TRAITOR!"

"THE BYZEN CLUSTER IS DOOMED!"

The crowd became disorderly, shoving and shouting, riling one another up and with quick succession dissolved into an angry mob trying to force its way past the guards at the foot of the steps.

"LONG LIVE PRINCE NIKIAS!"

"KILL PRINCESS IO!"

"TAKE HER HEAD AND YOU WILL BE REWARDED!"

Asta froze in place when the others were returning to the castle, leaving the crowd to the soldiers, who would take care of pushing them outside the castle's walls.

"Asta!" Kouen called firmly, startling her.

She went with him inside. Werner sealed the doors shut behind them.

"We waited too long, the information was leaked," said Kouen. He felt a swell of anger. How could this happen?

"What will we do?" asked Asta, crying into her hands. "What are we to do? They blame us for his death."

"Nothing can be done," Melik replied. "We let things run their course."

"If this paves the way for another uprising, we will take credit for the lie and take the country by force before Nohr arrives to support them," decided Kouen. "Until then, nobody leaves the castle."

"Is this to imply we are all suspects in the prince's death, your highness?" asked Egil. "Would you include yourself in that list as well?"

"We are no different," said Kouen. "We both had no need for Nikias if we wished to succeed in Corrin."

"Quite true," answered Egil, smiling pleasantly. "I did swear on the death of our last king that I would kill Nikias and offer his crown to my queen."

Asta stepped in front of Kouen. "Stop this."

"Forgive my impudence, my queen," said Egil, bowing his head. He looked past her shoulder to him, lowering his head again. "My king. Please excuse me. I have errands to make about the castle."

Egil departed with Werner and Kouen's subordinate following suit to fulfill the orders assigned to them.

"I will ask for instruction on Corrinean burial customs," said Baron. "Nikias should be honored as deserved."

"I will accompany you," said Melik. "I also have questions for the Corrinean people concerning Nohr. Excuse us."

Kouen placed his hand on Asta's shoulder and she turned to him, her eyes shining with tears. He expected her to blame him for keeping her from Nikias. He anticipated shouting and her small fists pounding on his chest.

A tear rolled down her cheek.

"Kouen," she said softly. "Can I hug you?"

"You don't need to a—"

Asta wrapped her arms around him, keeping him from finishing his sentence, and he stood there a little stiff, staring down at the top of her blond head. He raised his arms, hearing her start to cry again with her face buried in his chest. He hesitated a second, but he embraced her.

He expected shouting and to be blame. He didn't anticipate this.

Asta appeared to be the sort that allowed guilt to fester inside of her instead of taking it out on others.

Kouen felt sympathetic of her plight, seeing her crying in his arms seeking comfort he didn't feel capable of providing. She didn't complain or speak; she sobbed and clung to him tighter. He moved his hand to touch the back of her head when she released him, lowering her head in shame.

"Forgive me, I…" She smoothed her hand over his clothes before she lifted her eyes to him, puffy and crying still but determined. "I'll f-find him a-and he'll tell me who did this to him."

He believed her.

How could he not?


	33. (11) Shadow Mirage - Pt 3

**SHADOW MIRAGE **|

{ **i** }

Asta stared vacantly at the wall across the bed. She sat in the center of the large bed in a thin shift that hung loosely off her left shoulder, exposing a stretch of light freckles on her pale skin. Her white-blond hair was pushed away from her face and rested damp across her back, drying slowly into loose waves. Her eyes were swollen and weepy, the light blue hue of her irises a sharp contrast against the red. She kept her legs folded, her knees held up against her chest, and her arms draped across them, one hand over her leg and the other burying her nails into the skin of her kneecap.

"Nikias," she whispered, welcoming the distressing warmth of the tear that rolled down her cheek. She searched the wall for the slightest movements in the shadows. "Nikias. Come here. Come back. Nikias."

The heart beating quietly in her ribcage was a heavy stone. She couldn't sleep with its weight bearing down on her chest. The brittle bones, the feeble flesh, blood vessels, and muscle all quaking beneath the burden of it.

"Nikias." She sniffled. She felt the sadness like a void in her throat and swallowed it down. She rocked back and forth in her seat, flinching the second her nails punctured into her skin and drew blood. "Nikias. I'm..."

She let her head hang low and a sob escaped her. She didn't understand why his visage did not manifest like her father's had. Hákon had appeared immediately, as soon as she had laid eyes on his corpse. He had been calling to her long before he had arrived to the castle—a broken whisper in the dark, like a man trapped and bound to the black abyss at his back. He had come to her every instance since whenever she had felt weakness seep into her heart.

She had been present for Baron's explanation of the poison that had taken Nikias' life and had shown them the violet flower from which the toxin had been extracted. There had been a patch of them near the camp; Baron had taken note of it when he had been exploring the area for useful herbs to add to his already abundant collection of flora. The violet flower had black spots in its inner petals and a yellow center, its stem was a deep green shade, and its leaves were pointy.

"The toxins take time to extract," Baron had said, conferring with Kouen and Melik. Baron had been standing to Nikias' left, taking on the task of performing an autopsy before he prepared the body for burial. He had removed his embroidered kaftan, took the jewelry from his neck, fingers, and wrists, and had the sleeves of his white dress shirt rolled up above his elbows.

Nikias' body had been placed atop a wooden table draped in a white cloth. He had worn the same tattered clothing that he had died in, those he had borrowed from the Buhari brothers, and the blood tinted black by the poison that had snuffed the life out of him had drenched into the collar of his shirt. Asta had been sitting in a chair angled to receive a full view of the process some feet away from the table and she had watched Baron pick up the Silver Prince's cold limbs, weeping as silently as her emotions had allowed.

There had been candles all around them lighting up the room, the scent of burning beeswax overpowering in the air.

"Two weeks by a skilled hand," Baron had continued. "Less if the person had the tools for a quick extraction. Whoever did this knew the flower, they were quite versed in it, and aware of how to wring out the poison at its deadliest."

"How do you know this?" Kouen had asked. He had been livid since Nikias' death and had the entire castle on lockdown with several groups of people isolated for further interrogation. Few people had been pardoned suspicion.

Baron had unbuttoned the first four button of Nikias' shirt to expose the black spots blooming across his sternum blending macabrely with the contusions on his pale chest. "These only appear when the poison is at its maximum potency. They are faint at first."

"At first?" Asta had managed to ask. She had swallowed deeply, horrified. "Are you saying he was poisoned for a prolonged time?"

"No," he had said. "Nikias was poisoned once. The flower's poison tends to work slowly and silently leaving these black spots as an indication of its spread through the body. Their coloring is faint when the dose is small and the potency is low. Had that been the case, Nikias would have been alive and we would've had a chance to save him. He only had four days to live after the dose he was given. It spread quickly."

Melik had gone to stand beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder to offer her a bit of comfort, but she had been beyond that.

"Four days?" she had whispered. "And he could have been saved?"

Baron had shaken his head from side to side. "It's almost impossible to know with this dose."

Asta had stayed with Nikias throughout the preparation process. Baron had cleaned and clothed him in the pale colors that had complimented his fair appearance. Asta had placed a silver circlet encrusted with diamonds and sapphires atop his luminous hair and had watched the solemn servants of the castle—those that had served the Tassos family for years or generations—fill his coffin with white flowers, weeping into handkerchiefs. She, Melik, Baron, and Kouen had made offerings in gold and silver pieces of jewelry. He had been buried six feet underground in a graveyard among his ancestors.

The imprisoned Corrinean soldiers were restless and close to rioting. To everyone, Nikias' death was too convenient. Without a king, the people didn't have a chance. The entire royal family had been wiped out or was purposely out of sight. They were doomed and that led many to commit very desperate attempts against them, which resulted in unnecessary bloodshed. There was little to be done, but to try to control the situations that had arisen. Kouen had gone to take care of that aspect, allowing her the time to mourn.

All the while chaos had threatened them, Asta had steadily gone down a spiral path of despair.

Asta cried into her knees because Nikias didn't show up. He should've appeared before her to tell her who poisoned him. How could she not conjure him as she had her father? She sobbed noisily, her heart pounding hard in her chest. She didn't know what else to do. She couldn't sleep so she couldn't dream.

She had already lost track of how long it had been since she had last slept. Two days, three, or maybe four. Nohr would arrive tomorrow at the earliest—their ships with their black sails were visible in the horizon from the highest mountain peak facing the south—and Lorah in three more days. Ilya would take advantage of the riots; he would be smart enough to do so. She didn't know Louise to know her plans, but she didn't doubt the girl was smart enough to do the same.

Kouen stepped into the room, the door shut behind him loudly. He removed his sword from his belt at the wooden table by the bed and stole a glance of her face. "Did you sleep at all?"

"No."

He noticed the kettle on the table with a cup of cold tea sitting next to it. Hua had brought that in with a remedy that Baron had given her the recipe to help Asta sleep, but even though she had had a cup, or had it been two, she had not slept as she was supposed to.

Kouen picked up a handkerchief from the table and joined her in bed, climbing to sit next to her. He took her left hand away from her knee, showing her the blood on her fingernails, before putting the handkerchief on her knee. He returned her hand atop the soft surface of the cloth.

"What you are trying to accomplish, you won't hurting yourself in this manner," he said firmly.

"He won't come," she whispered, weeping again as she stared into his face. "No matter how many times I ask for him."

"Stop asking for him and sleep."

"I can't. I've tried, but I can't. I can't go to sleep. I close my eyes and there is nothing but darkness and my restlessness."

Nothing soothed her. Not the warmth of a bed or a hot bath or a brew mixed just for her. Nothing worked. She tried the herbal remedies and she attempted other means of exhaustion—physical exertion mostly—to make it easier to sleep. She experienced the same results. Tossing and turning in bed, lying awake as her husband slept at her side, and whispering to Nikias in the darkness to appear.

"I will return shortly," he told her, leaving the bed. He exited the room as swiftly and briskly as he arrived.

A few minutes later, Hua entered the room to tend to the tiny punctures Asta made over her knee. She brought a basket of medicine jars, gauze, and other necessities. Hua removed the handkerchief that Kouen had placed atop her knee and frowned at the little cuts.

"I'm sorry," said Asta.

"Stop hurting yourself in this manner, princess," pleaded Hua, leaving her side to dampen a cloth in the basin next to the bed. She returned to clean the dry blood off her skin. "I beg of you."

"I'm sorry," Asta repeated. She didn't have much to say. She felt she had disappointed everyone enough that she could only apologize for her selfish behavior.

She was behaving like a child throwing a tantrum because things weren't going her way. She was frustrated by the fact that when she wanted something truly out of this curse that tried to drive her insane, she couldn't have it. It didn't work. She spent the whole day staring at a wall and speaking to it hoping to hear even the slightest ringing in her ear, but she heard the silence and in it the trembling in her voice.

Hua quietly cleaned the rest of the blood, even the one under Asta's fingernails. Hua was meticulous and her hands were soft like some of the fabric Asta wore from the Kou Empire. Hua's bone-straight hair, long down her back was braided and black, the same shade as her eyes. Hua looked up at her and offered her the faintest of smiles that made Asta feel worse before Hua rubbed a disinfectant salve on the little cuts. She wrapped her knee in gauze and helped her into bed, tucking her underneath the thick covers.

"Please try to sleep," said Hua.

Asta nodded, though she knew that it would be impossible to do.

Hua left as Kouen returned.

Kouen brought Asta a small vial full of pinkish liquid. "Baron suggested you drink this."

"What is it?" she asked, taking it from his hand.

"For your restlessness," he answered, walking away from her side of the bed to undress.

Asta stared at the vial, holding it up over the faint candlelight from the nightstand beside her, and turned it slowly in her fingers. She was curious about what it was, but she trusted Baron to know what he was doing. She sat up, uncorked the tiny vial, and drank its contents. She reclined back onto the pillows and stared at the canopy above her as she listened to the rustling of clothing coming from her right.

Whatever that liquid was, Asta felt its effects soon after she relaxed her body. All of her limbs felt heavy and she couldn't keep her eyes open no matter how much she resisted. She slept at last.

_"Asta."_

Asta jolted awake. Her hands were flat against Kouen's broad back, the heat of his body warmed hers, and upon realizing this, she drew them away with her cheeks burning with embarrassment. She rose to a seat and looked deep into the cold darkness around her, feeling her body shudder penetrated by the cool air. The fire in the hearth had gone out. She could still hear the heavy pelting of rain against the window of their room.

Kouen stirred, exhaling deeply. She rose up on her knees and peered down at him, squinting in the darkness to make certain that she had not disturbed his sleep. He was still.

Asta slid out of bed quietly and tugged on a robe over her shift. She noticed a glow of light and followed it, finding a cluster of small birds floating above Kouen's sword sitting at the table before they vanished into thin air. She approached the table, reaching to touch the sheathed sword. Her heart skipped a beat, resonated in her ears.

_"Asta._"

At the door, she saw them again, the shinning birds. She walked to it, opening it, hearing nothing but the sound of her bare feet against the floor. She peered outside and saw a figure clad in white, turning down the hall. Her heart sank to her stomach.

"Nikias."

She knew. She felt his presence all around her.

She followed the fading figure in white down the hallway, turning left and right where it did, climbing down steps at a hurried pace as it moved fasted ahead of her. She felt her ankle twist at the bottom step and she fell down on her hands and knees so hard she cried out from the pain radiating across her bones.

Asta got back on her feet and sprinted aimlessly around the castle, finding it strange that there was nobody in her path, not a guard or servant in sight. It could only mean that she was dreaming. The fact made her feel at ease, for if the castle was unguarded and without people, they were not being careful enough.

She ventured down a wider corridor where there were pillars on both sides and busts made of marble.

_"Asta."_

She stopped, turning around to see the figure standing in the opposite corridor where the stairs would lead her underground where the soldiers' barracks were. She ran across, her knees protested with powerful aches, and took a spiral staircase to an anteroom lit with torches.

There were three doors-front, left, and right—and four torches, each aligned to an entrance. One torch was snuffed out to her left. The others burned bright and the room was filled with warm orange and yellow tones.

She took a moment to breathe and walked through the left entrance into a freezing cold corridor. She followed it through to the end and heard metal clinking against metal, drawing her sight left to the wooden bars of a narrow cell. Placed in an awkward position in the center, wrists bound above her head, Agnes was half on her knees and half-hanging from her arms. Her pink hair spilled down her shoulder and her bright eyes rose to meet hers, razor sharp.

Although, her appearance was weak, Agnes possessed enviable strength in the poor conditions of her imprisonment.

"Agnes," whispered Asta. She looked around to the pitch darkness.

"Princess," croaked Agnes. "Are you finally satisfied?"

Asta returned her gaze to Agnes. "Do you think me capable of killing Nikias?"

"You are an imperial princess of the Kou Empire," said Agnes. "Your husband carves a path for his country to rule with you as its empress. Corrin opposed you. Why not kill its prince? Your father would have done it had King Kyros not thrown himself between your father's blade and his son. He picked the princesses from the arms of their retainers, took them from the protection of their trusted guards, and threw them in a boat to be sold. They will not survive out there."

"They are Nikias' sisters, they will survive, and I will find them."

Agnes laughed, all of her limbs trembled from the strain of being suspended. "Is that it? You want to search for the princesses, find them, and be lauded for your efforts? Do you think it is that simple to win over the people of Corrin after all that you have done to destroy them? You pretended to be on our side and shot our prince down! You captured him and had him poisoned! You killed him! How dare you show your face to me?"

The chains rattled noisily, echoing in the silence that spread between them as she panted, out of breath from the outburst.

"The Byzen Cluster only has itself. We don't have attachments to other countries. We are small and quite insignificant. We are overlooked. The Kou Empire is an aggressive country and it won't stop until the entire Cluster is theirs. Kouen will use any means possible to take it. We can pick up our weapons and band together to challenge them, but we are at a disadvantage. We have been from the start."

Asta crouched down to be at eye level with the imprisoned magician, who glared at her.

"I am doing what is best for the Cluster," Asta continued. "I am trying to avoid war and death as best as I can in my circumstances, but it has all been difficult."

"You call people trying to defend what is rightfully theirs _difficult_?" questioned Agnes, voice shaking with rage.

"What do we gain from standing up against the Kou Empire? We would die with our honor intact, but that will be it, we will be dead. Some are content with that idea, but I'm not. I don't want to see others die."

"The people will not forgive you for killing their prince."

"They have nothing to forgive," said Asta. "I did not kill Nikias, but I think I understand why he brought me down here to meet you."

"What?"

"If you know Nikias' connection to my camp, please tell me," she pleaded. "Nikias swore himself to me when I promised to protect him and find his sisters, I cannot let him down, and I cannot let his killer get away with murdering him."

Agnes eyes were wide. "Are you insane?"

"Maybe, but I followed him here. He brought me to you for a reason. You're important."

"What?"

Asta stood up. "You asked me what I was not too long ago. I don't have an answer for you, but you saw something in me that was strange. You believed in that, so now I ask that you believe me when I say that you are important and that Nikias is the reason that I believe so."

Agnes glared at her viciously, saying nothing else.

Asta went to look for the key to Agnes' chains. She couldn't release her until she had some assurance that she would not make an attempt against her life, but she could lessen her discomfort. She roamed the hallway until she caught sight of those small golden birds that led her straight to the ring of two keys.

She returned to the narrow cell and reached through the bars to unlock the metal cuffs. As she drew her hands back, Agnes grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her forward until Asta's body hit the wooden bars hard.

Asta felt Agnes' nails digging into her skin when she tried to pull back. "You gain nothing from showing me this _mercy_."

"I'm not here for your approval," said Asta, reaching to take hold of Agnes' hand. "I am here to do right by Nikias. You can believe me or not. Each decision can alter your fate. You decide whether you want to be free to return home or stay here a permanent resident."

Agnes released her with a harsh shove and left Asta three long marks down the inside of her upper arm. She realized then that this wasn't a dream.

{ **ii **}

Morning was due in an hour, but the storm had not waned when Asta returned to her room. She felt the sting of the scratches the entire time and climbed back into bed next to Kouen shivering from the cold. Her teeth were chattering loudly and as she burrowed under the blankets, she jolted, realizing Kouen was awake.

"Sorry for waking you."

"Where did you go?" he asked calmly.

"To see Agnes, Nikias' magician. I think she could help me find who poisoned Nikias if she does not already know who his connections in our camp are."

"Very well. And how will you enlist her aid?"

"I don't know. I'll beg her if I need to."

He frowned. "You will not beg her or anyone."

"But if you find someone that has something you really want, won't you do anything that you can to attain it?"

"Something I really want?"

"Like really really want."

"...You have a point."

Asta rose up on her elbow, looking down at his face. "I want to know who killed Nikias. I absolutely must know. I have been driving myself insane calling to Nikias and he finally answered. He took me to her, so that must mean something. I think she is the key to everything I need answered and I'm not going to give up."

Kouen stared up at her and touched her cheek. "That is a good look."

She shied away from his touch, her face warned, and she lowered her eyes to the small space between them.

"I'm g-going to t-try to sleep," she said awkwardly, turning away from him. She couldn't have been more obvious.

"You're behaving strangely again."

"W-What?" she questioned, feigning ignorance. Her crush on him would die with her. He would never know about why she acted like a fool in front of him sometimes—most times. "What do you mean? I-I'm acting normal."

"Are you afraid of the storm as well as thunder?" asked Kouen, changing the subject.

"No, just thunderstorms," she said, her voice thin.

He stared at her blankly. He wasn't sold on the answer. She admitted to him once before that he did frighten her because he possessed an intimidating presence, but for a short while, she had behaved normally up until realizing that she found something about him attractive. It was beyond the fact that he was a handsome man. It was more about how he made her feel. He made her feel important in a way that Johan had not, as if she had her own strength to move her forward instead of just having to rely on his. Johan made her happy. He made her feel special to him. He charmed her and filled her with joy beyond anything she could have ever thought possible. She was willing to leave behind her country for Johan, go and never look back.

Her marriage to Kouen lit a fire under her. She sulked, complained, and cried, she mourned the death of her lost love. After, she realized the mistakes she had made in her pursuit of happiness alongside Johan, everything changed. She recognized true shame as a person that had grown up wanting to protect her people from her father's rule. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she had believed that one day she would return to Ione to do just that and Johan would have been her husband. She had planned to rule alongside him and reestablish peace, mend all of the country's broken ties. However, now, she did not trust herself with that. She didn't think that if she were happy, she wouldn't have been selfish enough to stay at Johan's side without looking back to her country. She had no faith in that girl that loved Johan and had agreed to run away with him.

Johan had meant more to her than her people. She regretted that now. She was ashamed of her actions.

The Kou Empire was an aggressive country, but it had a good goal that she could support. Kouen gave her the opportunity to do things her way. He was patient with her. He was kind to her. She felt safe with him in that she felt safe with herself. It was that he saw something in her that others had not and said it to her. He never hid it.

It scared her to think that he would realize the reason for her odd behavior was because she liked him. She imagined it would drive a wedge between them and make things awkward, more than this silence between them—ten times more unbearable.

"You are easily frightened," he said. "Frightened of the weather, terrified of your gift, and scared of me. What else startles you?"

Asta slowly turned back to him, swallowing thickly. "I'm not. I-I'm just…not."

"I have been unfair to you," he answered.

"In what regard?" she asked, confused, but no less nervous.

"I've kept you here long enough. Do you wish to return to Ione?" he questioned. "There is plenty more you can learn at my brother's side than with me."

"That's not true! I learned plenty traveling with you!" She settled down, hugging her pillow close. "I don't have much confidence and a lot of things scare me into a panic. I've never had much worth among the higher class apart from someone they could use to their advantage, but these past several days, I felt like a real authority figure." She smiled, a little flushed. "It sounds presumptuous of me to say, considering I've been utterly useless all this time."

"You have earned the feeling. Remember what you are capable of doing and continue to grow. It has been difficult for you to adjust, but you have done so accordingly, never forgetting that which is important to you."

She buried her face in her hands, too embarrassed to look at him. She couldn't handle the compliment.

"You never answered my question."

She moved her hands. "What?"

"What else frightens you?"

She couldn't think of one thing off the top of her head, but remembered that he counted himself among what frightened her. "I'm not afraid of you."

"Is that so?"

"Y-Yes. I'm just...well, I was just intimidated at first. I mean, you're Kouen. You have a complete different presence about you, but your personality doesn't match. It's not that I'm afraid of you, it's just I...you're different. In a good way."

"We should not have been so quick to judge one another. You weren't a dolt and I wasn't a—"

"Tyrant," she finished, smiling.

"A tyrant? Is that so?"

"Oh yes," she said, lying on her stomach and raising her upper body on her elbows. "Lady Bo told me all about your conquests and how people feared you so much they respected you. I was terrified that I'd be married to some big brute—"

"A brute is it?"

Asta flushed. She called him a brute! What was wrong with her? "I was only scared because you stood out more than your brothers and I wondered if they were similar. I was supposed to marry your younger brother after all."

"Kouha," he said.

"Yes, Kouha," she repeated. Saying his name made her curious over something she mulled over in her head for quite some time when they were in Ione. She felt bold asking him, but hoped he would not think so. "Why did you marry me instead?"

"Kouha was too young."

"I did not think that would matter."

"The Kou Empire wanted to see the might of your army and ordered Hákon to begin the conquest of the Cluster," he started, pausing, "and he agreed on the condition that you were married into the Kou Empire within the week."

That didn't answer the question. "Oh."

"It was previously agreed that you would be married once Kouha was of an appropriate age."

"_Ohhh_, I see." She started to feel satisfied with the answer when she remembered something else. "But there's Koumei. He's closer to my age, is he not?"

"I am not much older than Koumei."

"Ah, no, of course, it's not that, it was that you are the First Prince and I-I just thought your options would be better than a nobody princess from a small country like me," she told him nervously. "I only thought you would pick someone that would suit you and your country better."

"I chose you," he said. "That should suffice."

"No, it does, but it's just that I…"

"I have only been the First Prince for a few years," he told her. "You should not look to my rank to find a reason. I was responsible for acquiring the Byzen Cluster, thus when your father asked for a quicker marriage, I decided it would be easier for me to step in. I offered myself, your father was pleased, and the emperor did not oppose."

"You felt it was your responsibility to do so because taking control of the Byzen Cluster was your job?" she asked.

He nodded.

"That was quite sensible of you."

He stared at her blankly. "I suppose."

"Uhm, so, how many siblings do you have?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Eleven," he answered, "including the first emperor's remaining children." He must have seen the confusion in her face because he elaborated shortly. "The current emperor married the first emperor's widow and her two children were adopted into the family."

She smiled, resting her head. "I always wanted siblings, so I'm a little envious of you having so many."

Kouen pushed her hair behind her shoulder, his fingertips trailing softly across the thin fabric of her shift. "My brothers and sisters are yours now. There is no need for envy."

She felt so impossibly embarrassed she could die lying so close to him in bed. She tried not to let this affect her, but was aware she was bright red. She had so many freckles on her that she probably looked stupid all red.

"You're turning red," he pointed out.

She imagined that made it worse because her face grew hotter and she panicked, burying her face in the nearest pillow. "I'm sorry I—"

_"Asta."_

She jerked around and saw the tiny fluttering birds in one corner of the room. She sat up after moving closer to the edge of the bed. The voice was familiar, but she didn't hear it well enough to determine who it belonged to and she waited a little longer to listen again.

"Did someone speak to you?"

"No, I must have been imagining things," she said, returning to her spot beside him. She burrowed under the pillows, her body heavy from exhaustion, but her mind was too active to give her any opportunity to sleep. "I didn't see anything."

She yawned. She closed her eyes and heard that same voice call her name again at the same time that she listened to the bed creak as Kouen left it.

"Is it time to wake?" she asked aloud. She wanted to sleep, but it evaded her.

"For me," he replied. "You haven't slept."

Asta saw the shocked faces of the princes when they had unearthed Aquila's body behind her closed eyes. She heard the creak of the bed again and felt her body shift. Soft fingers touched her face and she opened her eyes, calling softly, "Kouen."

Kouen answered her distantly, nowhere near her side.

"Who are you?" she whispered, staring at the crumpled sheets and pillows beside her.

An arm wrapped around her and her heart skipped a beat. She felt afraid, like she would be pulled into a vivid dream of new horrors. She appeared to have exhausted all of those other things that she had seen, so she wouldn't again. At least, she believed she did. The room was growing cold. The sheets and coverlet wrapped around her were starting to freeze over. Her body started to shiver, trying futilely to produce more body heat.

"Kouen."

_"Don't be afraid, little princess."_

Kouen turned her as she realized whom that voice belonged to, her eyes wide with tears.

"You were murmuring," he told her.

She couldn't go to sleep. She had more to do before she could rest.

Asta sat up. "I'm going to speak with Agnes again."

"Had you not returned from doing so minutes ago?"

"Yes, but I want to release her this time."

He gave her a blank stare. "Okay…"

"Well, how else is she supposed to help me?"

"Don't speak to her alone."

"I'm not stupid, if I do speak to her alone, she'd try to kill me." Asta felt the chill of her body melt away and scrambled out of bed, past Kouen. She went through her clothes to find something to put on. She threw on a pair of pants and simple shirt before heading for the door. She turned once there. "I'm going first."

She ran into Hua on her way out and informed her she wouldn't be eating breakfast. She went to find Werner, who was in charge of the Corrinean prisoners, and as soon as she saw him, ensuring soldiers were rotating their shifts accordingly, she told him, "Werner, release the magician Agnes from her cell."

It took a second for Werner to process the order, but he inclined his head. "As you command."

"Release an enemy leader, your highness, you must be joking."

Asta turned around to see Egil emerging from a room wiping his hands clean of the soot on them. Werner excused himself to do as she asked.

"Are you here to question me?"

"Forgive me if it appears that way, but I do not see how this is a prudent idea."

"Leave me to figure that out for myself."

"Your father would not be happy to hear you say such things, your highness."

"Let us not pretend that my father would be happy to hear about anything that I am or will do."

"He was not the perfect father, no," said Egil, "but he loved you and his country. He would have liked for you to be more careful about the decisions you made."

"What are you afraid of, Egil?" asked Asta. "What reason is there to fear one prisoner surrounded by her enemies? She will remain under constant surveillance and be kept as far from me, so you have nothing to worry about."

Egil sighed. "Very well. I suppose the promise of your safety is enough for me."

"Oh, that reminds me," started Asta, before she walked off to join Werner. "How are the repairs going?"

"Well, your highness. I should be finished with your bow soon."

"If you are in need of stronger metals or better materials, do come to me, I would happily oblige you to ensure the best possible weapons. Our confrontation against Nohr is nigh and our soldiers will need to be armed to defend this land from further hardship."

"Thank you, your highness."

Asta retraced her steps back to Agnes' cell. She made it to the cold, dark corridor as Werner unlocked the door.

"What is the meaning of this?" demanded Agnes as Asta approached. The pink-haired magician's eyes narrowed upon seeing her. "You again?"

Asta smiled at her. "Did you forget you were important?"

{ **iii** }

There was a mass fire east of Atros and rioting all around the capital. Townships were being looted and pillaged by bandits donning armor they had stolen from fallen Ionian and Kou Empire soldiers, claiming they were parts of their royal militaries. It happened overnight.

People awaited the Nohrian threat to arrive to stall the Kou Empire's conquest until the Lorahian soldiers arrived and hoped those two armies plus the scraps of the Corrinean army would be enough to reclaim the throne for the rise of a new king. However, the harsh storms beating down on Corrin made sea travel around them slower. The wild storm season of the Byzen Cluster was a harsh time to travel and it was said that only the most experienced sailors could undertake the violent seas. Nobody expected it so early, but Asta viewed it as a blessing as it offered them ample opportunity to mount a counterattack if Melik's approach with Nohr failed them, which she hoped wouldn't. It made the people desperate.

The Hassahan troops were targeted in the chaos. They were being killed by infuriated mobs that would hang them from trees and burned them alive. The remains were left in pieces addressed to Melik all over the palace's courtyard because the people branded him a traitor. She couldn't apologize enough to him, especially for the insult that his solders were forced to bear being burned alive and mutilated. Hassahan customs dictated that bodies were to be buried back in their holy land whole.

Asta could not stand to see the decline. She felt horrible to know that this was the result of their efforts. She wanted things to end peacefully, but Nikias' death was the worst thing that could have happened to them. The war was done, the larger part of the Corrinean army was detained, but the people were revolting in their own way.

She couldn't focus on that. Kouen asked her to find the person responsible for Nikias' death. She released Agnes to help her find them, but as the magician swore, she hadn't been much help. Agnes would not aid her. She repeated it again and again. She refused to meet or see her under any circumstances and Asta was being pressured to put her back in chains. She didn't want to do that, but she was running out of time if she wanted to settle things peacefully.

For hours, Asta sat alone in her room speaking Nikias' name like a prayer and waiting for a sign that he was present. If she possessed a gift, she couldn't control it. If she didn't, she was driving herself insane because there was a medley of whispers in her head that should not be there if she was sane. The others treated it like a gift. They were convinced that it could only be that.

Magic existed but this simply made no sense to her. If it was a gift, why did she possess it? What warranted it? Gifts were earned, weren't they? She never recalled doing anything to deserve it. She didn't understand. There were others better suited for this gift.

Her questions remained unanswered. She kept asking them to herself and the voices in her head quieted down. She couldn't communicate with anyone. That was that.

Asta slept through images of the Corrinean countryside and a conflict resolved by magicians-for-hire, and when she woke in the dead of night, she scooted closer to Kouen. The mattress was so big and the space between them was always wide that moving a few inches closer didn't still left plenty of space in the middle. That time, she swallowed down her anxiety and moved close enough to touch him without having to stretch her arm out. She kept a pillow between them, lying half over it, her head resting on it, and she reached out to grab hold of the loose sleeve of his robe for reassurance.

She saw many different things. Hallways and different people in pointed hats, individuals wielding magic and a stretch of sea. She worked hard to make sense of them, pulling from them a story that felt foreign to her but very dear. The dreams weren't nightmares, but their content rattled her, filled her with an odd sense of urgency.

Agnes was never pleased to see her. She was wary of her, but that was the expected reaction. Being imprisoned in the manner that she had been would breed distrust. Coupled with Nikias' death, Asta was faced with an unlikely situation. She was distressed by it, but stubborn about letting it go.

Asta went to Agnes, who was kept guarded, but not chained. It was no different from imprisonment. The difference was that the room where she was kept was larger and contained all the comfort she could think of wanting. None of the accommodations given to her were things that she asked for because what she desired was something that she couldn't have. Asta recognized that. She understood a bit of her pain, at least when it pertained to Nikias.

She took with her the tray of food that one of the guards was tasked with delivering to her three times a day, which Agnes never touched. She dismissed Carina and Aghi, leaving the two under Werner's care, because she felt the soldiers posted around the room would be enough to care for her. She doubted Agnes was strong enough to perform any magic after having exhausted it in battle and not done much to replenish it, though she couldn't say much as she wasn't that knowledgeable of it.

She knocked at the door as a courtesy, announcing herself before entering. Everything happened uniformly, same as always, down to the number of guards posted in the hallway. But…nothing was normal.

Not today.

The tray was knocked out of her hands, hurled across the room with the hot broth spilling across the floor, and an arm wrapped around her neck tight. Another hand took hold of her wrist and twisted her arm back into a painful position.

Asta let out a surprised yelp, one that alerted the soldiers outside, but swiftly as the two entered, she was turned around, her back flat against a taller womanly form. A hand wrapped around her neck, applying enough pressure against her throat to cause discomfort.

Asta raised her only free hand in front of her, forcing her soldiers to halt. "Agnes, stop this."

"You didn't honestly think that letting me go wouldn't lead to this, did you?" asked Agnes, above her, twisting her arm a little more to elicit another pained response from her.

"I wanted to avoid it," she responded.

"Order them to call your husband."

"You can't use me to bargain with him."

"Oh? That might have been true before, but I heard Ren Kouen has taken special interest in you," said Agnes. "So, I think that if your life is threatened, he will listen to a thing or two that I might have to say." Tightening her grip around Asta's neck, she added. "Make them call him."

"Relay the message to Kouen," she told the guards.

The two looked at each other, silently deciding which of them would go. The soldier that left ran off.

Agnes forced her to walk, making the remaining soldier go on ahead, and exited the room with her in a tight hold. Asta tried to think up ways to release herself, but she couldn't think of any. She moved as much as Agnes allowed. The other guards were alerted and tensed. She wasn't in immediate danger. There wasn't a knife at her neck and she imagined that each one of them considered attacking Agnes, forcing her to let go of her, but they were wary of her magic. She could use that against them. She could use it against Asta.

She needed to resolve this before Kouen arrived, which gave her a few minutes.

"What are you trying to accomplish?" asked Asta. "By taking me hostage? By threatening my life? I told you we weren't responsible for Nikias' death. That's the reason I—"

"I would advise you to save your breath, _your highness_."

"Nikias was poisoned by whoever fed him information from our camp because they knew that he would pledge his loyalty to me and reveal their identity," said Asta. "Kouen and I had no part in it. I tried to do right by Nikias. I wanted him to live as much as you did."

"And yet, he died on your watch!"

"Nikias brought me to you!"

"Who is going to believe that? Who is going to believe you? You've done nothing for me that would make me believe a word that comes out of your mouth!"

That strummed a chord in her. It was true.

However, she knew something.

"You're not from Corrin," said Asta. "You weren't born here. You came two years ago."

"That isn't foreign knowledge. There are people that know it."

"You came with five other magicians—"

She tightened her hold on Asta's neck, silencing her. The guards took a step towards them and Agnes choked her until she made a pained sound that forced them to back away.

"I know that you feel inclined to say as much as you can to try to manipulate me like you did the prince, but it won't work," Agnes assured her. "So you can talk and waste what little oxygen you can muster or you can sit quietly and wait for your prince to show up."

"You came here for Nohr," she continued, her voice strained. "You dreamt about it ever since you were a little girl. They said there was a small magic kingdom on the Byzen Sea. There was a story. Your father told it to you every night." She paused, faltering as the images began to cram into her head at a faster rate. It was hard to make sense of one or the other. This was all new to her. She couldn't control it enough to stop it from happening. "You learned about it. The Tzap Incident and its remnants becoming a part of Nohr, about that person, the one with that strange power—the one that can…"

…_see things. _

As she finished her own sentence in her mind, she saw Nikias standing in front of her engulfed in golden light, his mouth moving as hers had a moment ago.

How?

Was she seeing things again?

Nikias slowly shook his head from side to side.

This was real?

He smiled at her.

Agnes froze. "How do you know that?"

"Nikias, he told—"

"I never spoke a word of this to the prince!"

Asta heard the sound of heavy footfalls coming closer to where she and Agnes stood surrounded by the few soldiers warily awaiting the right opportunity to strike. She reached to touch Agnes' hand, the one wrapped firmly around her neck, and heard the magician gasp.

"He told me now."

"My prince," uttered Agnes, her grip loosening on her.

Asta saw Agnes facing forward, her eyes wide, and looked back to Nikias, who smiled. In her distraction, Asta was able to release herself at the same time that she caught sight of Kouen approaching

Agnes turned to her slowly. "What are you?"

"This needs to stop," said Asta. "We cannot be at odds any longer. You must help me find who killed Nikias."

"You didn't kill him? No, why would he appear before you if you had," Agnes whispered, more to herself. She was torn looking between Asta and Nikias' fading image. "Who killed him then? I don't know whom he associated with? He never told me. You never said. Why didn't you ever tell me? Who did this to you?"

"Asta," called Kouen.

Asta broke away from Agnes and went to his side. Her arm was sore from having been twisted and her throat ached. "Forgive me for having called you here," she told him, rubbing her neck. It was tender.

Kouen looked past her to Agnes mumbling to herself. The magician was surrounded on all sides by their soldiers, prepared to capture her at a moment's notice. "What will you do with her? She threatened your life."

"She is likely the only person capable of helping us find the mole and hopefully calm the people, so I won't do anything," she said, stealing a glance at him, "if that is okay with you that is."

"It isn't," he told her. "There are other ways to calm the people."

"I promised I would handle it."

"You are free to continue doing so, but there are limits to my patience."

She understood. She wanted to get things over and done with so that their soldiers wouldn't have to be wary of what the Corrinean people were plotting to do against them. She wanted to end the tyranny against the Hassahan soldiers. She hated to see Melik and Baron suffering their losses. She disliked seeing the faces of every Hassahan soldier in the face of such an insult.

"I understand."

Asta dismissed the soldiers, with the exception of one, who remained to be certain that she would be safe. She didn't fear for her life. Nikias was no longer there. He vanished into the air the instant she turned to speak to Kouen.

"Agnes."

Agnes snapped around to her and took her arms. "How did you do it?"

Startled, Asta backed away, but Agnes held onto her tight, stopping her from moving too far. "Do what?"

"I saw him," said Agnes. "Was it magic? What kind of magic did you use? How did you make the rukh show him to you? It was him. I heard him speak. He called out to me. How did you do it?"

"I-I didn't—"

"But you did. You communicate with the rukh. You're obviously commanding them." Agnes' expression brightened with clarity. "Wait. You're the one, aren't you? The one from the Tzap Incident hundreds of years ago, weren't you?"

"Agnes, I need your word!" interrupted Asta. "I need your word that you will help me find the person responsible for Nikias' death. I need your help stopping the Corrinean people as well. I want this to end as peacefully as possible. Nikias was supposed to help me and the person that killed him doesn't want us to be settling things my way. The Kou Empire is an aggressive country and Ione was no different under my father's rule, but I'm trying to protect the Cluster. You don't have to believe that now, but do try to keep an open mind."

Agnes released her. "You're not asking me anything easy."

"I'm not."

"You are asking an enemy leader to join you in taking control of the Byzen Cluster for your husband's country."

"I am."

The magician sighed. Asta understood that she was gambling with her own livelihood in placing any trust in Agnes. She couldn't say that she was convinced by her words or after seeing Nikias. She needed to prove herself and show her that she wasn't trying to commit evil; rather she wanted to ensure the protection of the kingdoms despite the takeover. Nothing could be done. The Kou Empire wouldn't stop until they possessed every kingdom in the Cluster. They had no allies outside the Cluster to rely on. Together, they didn't possess the necessary forces to take on a country like the Kou Empire. They would've been obliterated.

Asta was taking advantage of her marriage to Kouen. She was fortunate that he gave her the opportunity to try to resolve the conflicts peacefully—that he even possessed the patience to deal with her demands. There were disagreements. He took Nikias from her, but she didn't blame him for his death. She believed that whoever killed Nikias would've killed him under anyone's supervision.

"I owe it to Prince Nikias to help you find his murderer," said Agnes, "but I cannot do anything about the people. The prince dying in your custody alone looks terrible whether you were responsible for it or not and you need someone of greater or equal status in Corrin to appeal to the people before you can."

"I understand that, but there is nobody without either of the princesses or the noble houses."

"You have someone."

"Who?"

"Aesop," answered Agnes. "He was the late king's brother."

"Oh." Asta imagined with startling accuracy that she would be the last person Aesop would want in his company. This presented another problem that she lacked time to resolve fully. The commanding Aesop would not be swayed by pretty words or memories, especially from someone like her, who he held responsible for the downfall of Corrin. He would faster stab her in the back. She would need to think up a different way to approach him.

"I can speak with him if you would allow." Agnes put her hand on her hip, shifting her weight into a more comfortable stance. "He has a right to know that his hatred is misplaced and should be redirected elsewhere. He's a difficult man, but he's not too stubborn when it comes to the truth and he should believe me."

"Should?"

"If I can convince him that I haven't been brainwashed by any of the Kou Empire's magicians," she replied. "If he knows that I'm helping you find Nikias' murderer because I believe that you weren't the one that killed him, he will help, but if he doesn't believe that, he won't. He'll be tough, but I can do my best if you're going to be holding up your end of the bargain."

Asta nodded. "I am. I will. I won't let to Corrinean people suffer any longer and I will find the princesses as well as bring Nikias' murderer to justice. I won't give up."

"That's good enthusiasm, Princess Asta of the Kou Empire," said Agnes seriously. "I do hope that this is not just an act. Know that if it is, I will learn of it through magic."

"Yes, of course! I promise you that I'm telling the truth!"

Agnes shot her a suspicious look. "You're a bit of a pushover, aren't you?"

Asta's face went red. "I'm trying my best!"

"Well then, when I can I talk with Aesop?" asked Agnes.

There was no reason to refuse her, but this would mean that Asta would be taking another gamble with Agnes by allowing her to speak with another enemy leader.

"One of my personal guards will accompany you," said Asta. "You can speak with him freely in her presence."

"I expected no less security."

Asta called the nearby guard over and asked that he fetch Carina to accompany Agnes downstairs into the dungeons.

"I do hope you won't mind keeping my guard in your company until our next meeting."

"If she's better company than those you posted last, I won't."

"Very well."

An awkward silent spread between them when she heard heavy footsteps come to a halt. The two looked towards their direction to the start of the long corridor at Egil. He came accompanied by his son, the one she recalled hanging around the Hassahan campsite, and he appeared visibly upset.

"Do my eyes deceive me?" he questioned. "You have pardoned her, my queen?"

Asta moved between Agnes and Egil when he took several steps towards the magician. "I appreciate your concern, Egil, but this is not your place to opinionate."

"She threatened your life!" he shouted.

His son grabbed a hold of his arm, keeping him from moving any closer. "Father!"

"She threatened to kill you and you're letting her go! For what? So that she may take up any other opportunity to try to end your life again?"

"If she's going to help me find the person that killed Nikias, then she's got my support and no harm will come to her, but if she ups and betrays me, she'll regret it!"

"Do you not hear her speak?"

"That is enough! Please leave!" shouted Asta.

"You need to think more about your safety, my queen! Surround yourself with people that will care for you, not those that will only allow their resentment to fester and drive them to harm you!"

"Egil! Enough! Listen to me and go!" she said, firmer.

"Father! Father! That's enough, we should go! This was a bad idea," his son said. "We shouldn't have come here when we heard!"

Egil shook his son off, the peaceful countenance that Asta associated with her seemed foreign to his expression now. "I do hope that you don't come to regret your decision!"

He stormed off with his son following him close behind.

"I'm sorry," said Asta, looking to Agnes.

"Yeah, I didn't expect everyone to be as accepting as you."

Asta waited with Agnes until Carina showed up. She gave Carina the details of her assignment and left it in her capable hands. She wandered back to find Kouen, a little lightheaded and heavy. She felt as if she were about to faint, her eyes darkened at the corners and her body felt so light that she needed to lean up against the wall until it passed.

Kouen was busy talking with Melik and a few others. She walked in to join them, but as soon as she had, she felt her knees buckle and her body fall, unconscious before she hit the ground.

Asta woke up in her room surrounded by soft light. Kouen sat beside her in bed reading, stacks of books near his crossed legs. There was a small wrinkle between his eyebrows and she knew that he was engrossed in whatever it was he had in his hands.

She hated to interrupt. "What happened?"

"You apparently depleted your magoi," he explained. "It was enough to leave you weak, but not enough to kill you. You're using magic, Asta, and performing it requires magoi. You don't have an infinite supply, so you must be careful using it."

Whatever it was, if it was, she understood one thing about it. "But I can't control it."

"You are overdue a lesson in learning to do so." Kouen shut his book, looking at her. "Until you go through one, use your gift sparingly."

"I can try." Asta reached for an extra pillow to hold and turned over on her side, frowning. She couldn't do more than try to exercise some control over it. She could if it was a gift since it wasn't up until recently that she started to experience more odd dreams and encounters with the dead. If it was magic, how did it work? How was she using it?

"What kind of things do you see?"

Asta looked up at him, the bottom half of her face buried in her pillow. "Are you curious to know if I'm insane?"

"You aren't insane. You are using magic. According to Melik, you possess a rare gift that if honed could serve you well."

It warmed her heart to hear such strong words from him. It was easy to misinterpret them for more than what they were, especially after hearing Agnes (even her) say that Kouen developed a special interest in her, though it was because of her gift that he had. She told herself not to take it to heart, enjoy the compliment, and let it go.

She smiled. There were things she couldn't stop herself from feeling. She was naïve and impressionable. She liked kind words, same as the next person, maybe a little more than that. It was true that she was a target for people's ill intent. She hated it, she wished she could stop it, but she couldn't help it. She couldn't do it now. It would be hard to trust anyone if she did.

"I see things that don't make sense," she started. "I have to decipher them. Everything is communicated to me through a language of images that I need to take apart to understand. At times, I am guided with signs that are more obvious. I hear those, but I dream everything else."

"Have you dreamt of me?"

She imagined the next time somebody would have asked her such a question it would've been coupled with a romantic mood. The same soft light, probably some mutual love between them, and the promise of more beautiful, romantic things.

They were surrounded by books and soft light, ready for bed, the mood was calming, but not romantic, and the only thing mutual between them was respect.

"Yes."

"What did you see?"

She reiterated her dream of having seen him sitting in a dark with a goblet of poison that she covered with her hand, admitting to him that seeing this led her to ask him not to drink anything that didn't come from the ship. She told him about the whispers and shadowy figures in the dark, the ones that watched her every move.

"Are those the sort of images you need to translate?" he asked, curious.

His interest in her gift was attractive. She thought his interest in anything would seem attractive to her. The attention he paid it was one of the reasons, but mostly, for her it was the look in his red eyes—bright with questions. He wasn't quite so severe looking, less frightening and imposing. He was simply handsome. She acknowledged that from the moment that she first saw him, but she wasn't attracted to him, not immediately. However, his looks hadn't drawn her to him, rather the way that he made her feel important where others made her seem insignificant. There was something else, she noticed, deep down inside of her, to the very pit of her belly that felt as though someone poured molted lava in it whenever she was with him in these sorts of situations—alone, together, without others watching them…in intimacy.

It was as if she expected more. Sometimes. Not all the time. She knew what she wanted, but she'd rather not put it into words, not even in her mind. It embarrassed her to think about it.

That was not the case now. This was quiet and peaceful. He looked attractive in the soft orange glow of the candles—his hair, his eyes being red appeared richer in the light.

"Yes," she said softly. She broke away from her thoughts, refocusing on the conversation. "I have also seen you in darkness with the sun in your hands."

She called forth the image to mind and the soft expression on his face as she consciously reached out to touch his hand. She saw him tense, but very quickly relaxed, turning back to her.

"I don't understand that one yet."

"You can share what you see as well," he said, partly stunned.

"It appears so."

There appeared to be more to learn about this _gift._

"Show me others."

Asta sat up, her heart full, and took the hand he offered to her.

That night, amidst all of his books, Asta and Kouen theorized about her gift. She shared as much knowledge of it as she could, dating back to the Commoner's Revolt where the resulting trauma, according to her mother might have triggered the nightmares to start, and he expressed interest in the things that her mother said, especially when it came to the midwife, Maeve. He taught her as much as he knew about magic, saying that the only reason he could use it was through his metal vessels. She asked him about dungeon capturing and he recounted his experiences with it, becoming a King Vessel at sixteen for his two djinns and revealed that when he had first arrived to Ione, he had been returning from a dungeon that Koumei captured.

"In the fan?" she said, making a gesture to emulate the fan that Koumei carried with him when they met. They had broken that hideous vase outside of her mother's library too.

He nodded. "Can you tell that too?"

"I just had the same feeling that I got with your sword," she replied, "and your pauldron. That too."

It was late at night when Asta shared two more images from her dreams with him before it stopped working. He tried to help her concentrate, but she couldn't stop laughing. Instead, he decided that it was well past the hour of sleeping and that they should make up what they could for tomorrow would be another difficult day. She helped him clear his side of the bed and joined him in bed, lying on her side facing him.

He stared at her for a moment in the dark and reached out to touch her head. She felt his fingers move through her blond locks, drawing the strands over her shoulder. Her heart rate quickened as she slowly exhaled, a brush of his palm across her jaw made the skin underneath it burn.

Kouen removed his hand from her head and she bit down on her lips. He noticed it and drew his thumb across her lips making her stop. He slipped his hand underneath her chin, guiding her face up, and surprised her when he raised his upper body, turning over to lean above her, to bring her mouth to his.

How could she sleep now?

{** iv** }

Agnes petitioned the release of one of her magicians, one versed to some degree on Clairvoyance Magic, who could help them pinpoint Nikias' killer. Asta approved it because Agnes managed to get Aesop to agree to a meeting with her concerning the people of Corrin after she convinced him that she was not responsible for the Silver Prince's death. Carina confirmed all of the information Agnes had given her when she had spoken to her separately to thank her for her contribution.

The magician released was a petite girl standing at an inch or two taller than Asta with short, fluffy lime green hair and bright brown eyes. She introduced herself as Christin and Asta vaguely recalled her presence back in the Tassos' hidden palace. She did know that the girl inspired familiarity in her because she had seen her with Agnes when she first arrived to Corrin (in the dreams she had had).

Carina and Aghi stood posted outside of the room Agnes inhabited since her release. Baron accompanied her inside, curious to see the sort of magic that would be performed by the Corrin-employed magicians.

"I don't understand why we are going so far in searching for a murderer when the most probable person is standing in this room with us," said Christin, looking directly at Baron. "I mean, you're famous for your knowledge of poisons."

"Don't think I'm excluded from the list of suspects for being an ally of the princess," said Baron.

"He remains under watch," added Asta. "Although, I find him incapable of committing such a crime, he refuses his name to be cleared."

"Oh wow, how nice of you," said Christin.

"Indeed."

"Christin, please perform the magic."

"Fine."

Christin raised her small wand and started to speak when the door slammed open, startling them.

"Nohrian magicians are landing in Corrin!" shouted Aghi.

Baron and Asta exchanged looks, silently agreeing to go. He went on ahead to find Melik. Asta turned to Agnes and Christin. "You may accompany me if you wish, but if you do not, you will remain here under a guard."

Agnes gestured Christin to follow her. The two ran out after Asta. Aghi and Carina joined her outside.

Asta led them, joining Werner and the Ionian soldiers waiting outside on the stage atop the hundred stairs where they could see the Nohrian ships in the distance with the black sails. From there, they had a perfect view beyond the courtyard to the shoreline north of the capital, which sat atop a hill. There were dozens upon dozens of magicians flying across from the ships to the sandy beaches in thin black armor and horned helmets.

Melik and Baron appeared shortly after Kouen showed up.

"We are going," ordered Kouen.

The armies were split in half, one remained at the capital to keep it, and the other went on ahead of them with Werner at the helm to proposition the Nohrian magicians to stop their attack so the leaders could speak. Melik asked for the opportunity to speak with Ilya, convinced that he was the only one capable of stopping him from trying to aid the Corrinean people from a war.

They traveled on horses and made it to the shores within the hour. Asta dismounted as soon as she spotted a smaller boat approaching the shore carrying three people with it. Melik walked up beside her, looking in the same direction.

"That's Ilya," said Melik. "I'll go on ahead."

"I'll go with you."

Melik paused, considering it for a second. He nodded. "Let's go."

Werner and the forces he took with him created a wall between the shore and the meadows and roads behind them. The Nohrian magicians did the same, with their backs to the sea, stalwart while they awaited orders.

Asta and Melik walked past their line of soldiers into the beach. Her feet sank into the sand each step she advanced, but she managed to follow Melik to the center of the beach where they waited for the small boat to embark.

Ilya stepped out of the boat onto the water, his body clothed in black ornate armor. His short, black hair was tucked underneath a helmet with tall pointed horns; his eyes were narrowed, a striking green shade against his pale skin. He was tall, taller than she recalled, with a bigger presence than he had in the Byzen Festival. He oozed strength and self-confidence. His face was symmetrical and quite pretty, though he attempted to dapper his natural charm with a solid frown and a deep wrinkle between his thin eyebrows.

He walked to them, his eyes glued on Melik, and carried with him a long spear, blue-black in the fading sun with a black blade. He stopped several feet from them and looked to her with an equally cutting glare before searching the crowd of soldiers, as if he were counting them unfazed by their numbers. He brought thousands with him on his ships and magicians were still touching down along the wet shoreline.

"Melik of Hassah, Asta of Ione, you have purposely shattered the peace that governs the Byzen Cluster and invaded your neighbors under a foreign banner," said Ilya, his voice deep and unfaltering. "By the law of our ancestors, you are sentenced to death. I, Ilya of Nohr, will be your executioner." He took on a fighting stance and pointed the sharp end of his spear at them. "Prepare yourselves."

Behind them, their soldiers took on a defensive stance.

"There has been enough bloodshed," said Melik. He took the blade from his belt and handed it to Asta for safekeeping. "I propose to you that we spare our armies the agony of another war and fight a duel, one-on-one, you against me."

Ilya retracted his stance. "A duel to settle the conflict? Would you be willing to bet all of your traitorous heads on a single fighter?"

"That would be the ideal, yes."

"I accept on the condition that if I win, you will forfeit yourself to Nohrian custody—all of your leaders—and silently await trial and execution."

"Maybe we can skip the trial if we're going to be executed!" shouted Christin from the crowd.

Ilya glared in her direction. Asta heard Agnes reproach her for her outburst.

"Understood?" asked Ilya, to Asta. "And your conditions, Asta of Ione?"

"You lower your weapons and pledge loyalty to me," said Asta.

"Very well."

Melik shouted for another sword from Baron, who tossed it to him.

"What do you think you're doing?" asked Ilya.

"Preparing to duel you."

"I will only do battle with those responsible for the war, Kouen of the Kou Empire or Asta of Ione, not brainwashed third parties."

Asta's heart seized. She didn't want to fight him. She looked at Melik helplessly and stole a glance at Kouen, who appeared calm. Always, in any situation, there was no fazing him.

"I'm a mere representative of Ione," said Melik, "of the princess."

He looked at Asta, nodding with a smile.

She agreed.

"Do not regret your arrogance when I win this battle," he told Melik. "Very well. I will fight you, representative of Asta of Ione."

Asta stepped away from them, returning to Kouen's side with Melik's sword in her arms. She watched the two prepare for their duel, each differently. Melik cast off his navy kaftan, threw it into his brother's arms, and stretched his arms high above his head. He rolled his shoulders and pushed up his sleeves above his elbows. His body was relaxed in a few movements. He was light on his feet.

Ilya was wound tight, moved his head to one side then the other. It cracked. He flexed his fingers, took hold of his spear with both hands, and assumed an offensive position.

Melik was the first to strike. He sprang across the sand with his sword high above his head and swung down over Ilya's head. Ilya brought the spear's body up to block and pushed Melik back. Melik landed on his feet safely and exhilarated.

"Your movements are faster than the last time we fought!" he pointed out.

"Do not lower your guard," warned Ilya, charging at him and thrust the blade of his spear at Melik in a barrage of attacks.

Melik struck a few, shoving the spear away from his body, and avoided several moving swiftly as the speed of Ilya's assault increased. Melik found an opening, kicked his leg up—Ilya pulled his head back, evading the blow—and dropped his foot down over Ilya's spear, slamming it into the sand, a wall of it rising up from the force like a wave, and he bounced off the spear, turning with a swift kick aimed at Ilya's head. Ilya's arm shot up to block it. He twisted his hand under his spear to raise it and aimed at Melik's waist as he was landing. Melik narrowly blocked the blow with the flat side of his scimitar.

The two jumped back, placing some distance between them, reassuming their battle stances for a split second—a relaxed one for Melik and a tense one for Ilya—before they lunged at one another with a number of consecutive blows.

Asta watched completely mesmerized by the display of skill. She had grown up watching the members of the Castle Guard being trained in combat, but the styles were vastly different—Melik's to Ilya's to her Guard. Melik possessed the fluidity of water. Ilya was a stonewall. Ione's warriors were all strength, very focused on offensive tactics.

Melik and Ilya appeared evenly matched in their distinctive styles. It felt as though the duel would go on in the same manner for a long time. They each gave each other opportunities to display the range and strengths of their attacks that she came to the sudden realization that the two were not actual fighting one another as seriously as they should have, which consumed a large chunk of time.

"They're wearing each other down," she said aloud.

"I should have anticipated that they would not fight each other serious," said Baron at her side.

"Is there any reason as to why?" asked Kouen, startling her. She never realized he was standing behind her.

"Not that I'm aware," she answered.

"They're clearly stupid," added Baron.

It appeared to her that they were sizing each other up. Fighting to understand the differences (or in their case similarities) in skill. There was too much at stake for Asta to believe that they were truly wasting time running each other ragged with the same formulaic sequence of battle—one attacked repeatedly while the other defended, then switch with the occasional extraordinary move in between. Maybe there was more to it that exhausting each other and they were not looking beneath the surface. She couldn't know what thoughts were running through their minds. She was never engaged in fierce combat, so she couldn't know. Did they think tactics? Were they predicting one another's movements?

Ilya took a firm step back and thrust his spear straight at Melik's face. Melik raised his sword to deflect it when the blade of the spear was engulfed in yellow light and it shattered through his defense. Melik narrowly avoided the hit when he moved his head to the side, but the pieces of his shattered scimitar that hit his body left tiny scratches.

"Magoi manipulation," Kouen said with interest.

"What is it?" she asked.

"He is using his magoi to strengthen his blade," he explained. "He would fare better against it with his Metal Vessel."

Asta saw Melik's expression darkened as he avoided the next set of attacks. She worried about him because he was fighting with a broken sword, but it didn't seem to stop him. He was light on his feet. He was evading Ilya's earlier attacks with better ease. These new ones, since Ilya started to use magoi manipulation to strengthen the blade of his spear were giving him trouble.

The agile Melik appeared to be slowing down or was it Ilya that was getting faster. She couldn't tell. All she knew was that Ilya was able to nick Melik more often than not and that he was providing no openings for the older prince to counterattack. Without a proper sword, he seemed to be fighting a losing battle.

Her heart was pounding so loudly in her chest that it was distracting. She couldn't concentrate, but she couldn't look away.

A swipe left, a right, a thrust—a cut to the upper arm, another line across his cheek, the destruction of the rest of the sword. Melik was fighting without a weapon. He knew how. She could see it in his style of fighting. The scimitar was an extension of his arm, nothing more. He had this. She had to believe that he did.

If they lost, they'd have to keep their word.

The air around Melik changed completely. It was about survival now.

Ilya drew his spear back and created the smallest of openings. She almost missed it—she was surprised to have seen it. Melik took full advantage. He slipped right through Ilya's defenses and elbowed him in the face. The force knocked the horned helmet from his head and it bounced across the sand. Melik grabbed hold of the spear and jerked it back, disrupting Ilya's concentration enough to stop his magoi manipulation, fighting him for it. Ilya clocked him in the face once, twice, thrice, shouting each time he did. Melik held onto the spear, stubborn about releasing it, and before Ilya's fourth punch connected, he head butt him.

Melik swept his leg under Ilya's and dropped him on his back, yanking the spear from his hands and turning it, slamming it down hard.

Asta jolted, turning away with her hands covering her face. She heard the sound of the blade force its way through flesh and bone and Ilya shout in pain.

"It's over," said Baron slowly.

She removed her hands and looked back at them.

Melik stood over Ilya, holding onto the spear that he stabbed through the prince's shoulder. His hands were trembling. He was drenched in sweat and covered in many small bleeding cuts. His nose was bleeding and his lip was busted. She noticed a dagger sticking through his ankle when she finished her onceover of the older prince. Ilya held onto the handle of it with blanched knuckles. He was in a sorrier state. His mouth and nose were bleeding. His eyes were bloodshot. He was biting down hard, his expression was cross between anger and pain. He was sweating; his wavy black hair was short and stuck close to his head. He was breathing audibly. His exhaustion was like a weight on his chest.

She looked around at his magicians and deciphered their expressions. They were prepared to defend their prince to their deaths if Melik moved so much as an inch.

"Asta of Ione!" shouted Ilya, frightening her.

She ran to his side, heart hammering loudly in her chest. "Y-Yes?"

"I pledge my loyalty and men to you," he struggled to say. "Your representative has defeated me fair and square."

Upon declaring himself, Melik released his hold on the spear and dropped down on his knee, unable to stand, strands of his dark hair feel across his bloodied face. He laughed a little.

"What are you laughing at, you stupid man?" complained Ilya, unable to move either.

"You've gotten stronger," answered Melik.

Ilya glared at him. He called forward a pair of magicians to treat their wounds. Asta helped one of them remove the spear from Ilya's shoulder when it turned out that it was lodged between his armor in an incredibly painful position.

"You had best explain yourself to me properly, little princess," said Ilya, looking up at her from his seat on the sand. "Melik of Hassah would not fight so seriously for a cause he did not believe in or abandon his kingdom's fate as he has. I do not forgive what your father did to Baryon or what was done to this land and its prince, but I owe you my attention."

Asta lowered her gaze and nodded. She wasn't sure where to start.

"Nikias was killed by a person working for Lady Tjäder," Melik told him. "We weren't responsible for it."

"You are responsible for the war."

"Nohr was the most affected kingdom by the Tzap Incident; you should understand how important it is to—"

"—protect the kingdoms?" finished Ilya. "I am aware. It is you lot that appears determined to destroy them for the whims of a bigger nation."

"This is much bigger than that!"

"When the rest of the islands in the Byzen Cluster sink to the bottom of the sea, I would like to hear you say that again!" argued Ilya.

"That's a child's tale! Only a child would actually believe that the Kingdom of Tzap sank to the bottom of the sea!"

"There is evidence!"

"Will you two shut up for a second and let your healers concentrate?" snapped Baron.

Agnes and Christin were following close behind him.

"Why is it that the prince of a magical kingdom like Nohr isn't using any magic?" asked Christin.

There was a collective gasp from the surrounding magicians in earshot followed by whispers. Ilya stared at the small cherubic girl, dumbfounded.

Melik snorted, starting to laugh. Ilya jerked around and lunged at him in an attempt to choke him. Agnes covered her face in shame as Asta and Baron struggled with the two magicians to pry the feuding princes off each other.

"Asta."

Asta turned around, releasing Ilya's arm.

Kouen approached them. "I received word from Ione."

She felt her heart soar at the sound of her country's name. "What did you hear?"

"Koumei shot down a major uprising in the Strand District and captured one of the rebellion's leaders. They will be executed alongside other relevant parties within the week."

"Who was captured?" she asked. She thought about her aunt.

"Kay Åkerman."

He petitioned for Freja to be reinstated into the Ionian House after Asta deposed her. She suspected him in aiding her to fuel the people's rage against the Kou Empire, but she didn't have any evidence apart from a suspicion. She couldn't condemn him. Yet, Koumei found him guilty of treason. He would be executed.

"And my aunt?"

"Would you like to return to Ione?" he asked, surprising her again with the question.

"No." She thought about wanting to go back before, but she couldn't anymore. There was too much to left to do in Corrin. "I want to stay with you. I trust your belief in your brother."

{ **v** }

"I'm Ilya Petrov, the Crown Prince of Nohr," said Ilya, bowing his head. "I do not approve of your country's insistence in taking the Cluster, but I swear my fealty to your cause until we can negotiate a proper alliance. My magicians and knights are at your service."

Asta explained as much as she could to Ilya about their circumstances. She was not an active participant in the actions that attracted the Kou Empire to Ione (and the Cluster), but she was when it came to Corrin, a detail that Ilya was very adamant about holding onto. He believed her when she repeated that she did not kill Nikias, but he was not all that convinced that she wasn't trying to get rid of the Corrinean people as a whole considering the lack of serious action when it came to the rioting. She clarified that she was searching for a non-violent end to the conflict, but that the possibilities in accomplishing something like that they needed Nikias. Temporarily, they were arresting and imprisoning everyone causing or fueling chaos. She filled him in about the rebellions happening in Ione to elucidate on the situation further.

She figured that she was happy enough that he listened to her and that it was better to allow him to form his own opinion on the matter over time. She introduced him to Kouen next, which brought them to a whole new discussion.

"You have my pledge, but you will need my father's for Nohr to concede to the Kou Empire entirely," said Ilya. "I am in favor of Asta's stance, in ending things in a non-violent matter. The wars you have begun to fight are dangerous and unnecessary. We live by a code that penalizes the invasion of our neighbors for the sole purpose of preventing inner-Cluster conflict. We do not want another Tzap Incident upon us. So I humbly beseech you, though I've forfeited my ability to do so, to give Nohr the same opportunity you have given Ione and Hassah: negotiations."

"Is that all you demand?" asked Kouen.

"Yes."

"We will journey to Nohr to enter negotiations with the king," said Kouen, looking at Asta as he did. She grew hot under his vigilant stare. "First, we have to lay a new foundation in Corrin."

There was a collective agreement from their commanders.

Kouen dismissed the people in the room and left his seat. Asta went to him to thank him for considering negotiations.

"If we remain constrained, I will have to ask you to go ahead and join you after Corrin is settled," he informed.

"For negotiations? Me?" she asked.

"Unless you prefer the other way around. The Byzen Cluster is to be your domain, you understand why the Koi Empire wants it, and should know how to negotiate for it."

"No, it's okay, I can do it."

Kouen approached Ilya. "What is the Tzap Incident?"

Ilya stared at him blankly. "Excuse me? Asta and the Buhari brothers never mentioned it?"

"I cannot say they have, no, but I have heard the term on several occasions," said Kouen.

"What is wrong with you fools?" he demanded, looking to them all with a sharp glare. "How can you forget to mention something as important as the Tzap Incident? Were you not schooled growing up?"

"Eh, I'm sure my mother mentioned it once or twice," replied Asta, "but it was boring, so I tuned it out, plus, I was watching Sigge practice his swordplay most of the…" She trailed off realizing what she was saying and that Kouen was staring at her keenly. She cleared her throat. "I was watching Carina practice her martial arts. Yes. She has great form."

"Pay better attention next time! Your lessons were not created to bore you to death," said Ilya critically. He rounded on Baron next. "And you? What's your excuse?"

Baron turned serious, narrowing his eyes and spoke in a firm tone, "My _what_?"

Ilya went in on Melik. "And you, you useless prince?"

Melik was busy scratching the back of his ear when he answered, "I paid my dues."

"That doesn't answer the question!" snapped Ilya.

Asta didn't quite understand why the two bickered so much.

"Well, why don't you explain it instead of ganging up on us about not telling him? _Sheesh_, it's not that important, you old fogey."

She saw the fury creeping out from underneath Ilya's skin. He would attack Melik again if he said one more word, but composed himself enough to speak to her husband.

"You are surrounded by children," he said to him. "Small idiots with short retention spams that only serve—"

"I resent that, I'm older than you all," Melik chimed in.

"Well your ignorance is showing!" barked Ilya. "How did you live with yourself? How can you? Knowing that you're an idiot! A useless idiot! You're a dolt!"

Melik chuckled, and to Baron said, "Look at him freaking out, it's adorable."

Ilya spoke to Kouen upon composing himself. "The Byzen Cluster used to be comprised of seven kingdoms. The Kingdom of Tzap was the seventh. The Byzen Code exists because of what happened to Tzap. Many years ago, the Byzen Sea was cursed with the arrival of a goddess. She stepped down from her heavenly throne and reigned over the Kingdom of Tzap where people continued to worship her as a goddess and she birthed the first civilization of magicians. The kingdom flourished under the rule of her children for generations to come, but the neighboring kingdoms grew jealous of Tzap's success and declared war.

"Tzap was bound by a sacred vow of non-conflict, one that was made before the goddess that birthed them died—she had said, '_War solves nothing. It breeds more war and destruction. These lives that allow you to breathe and laugh and love were not given to you to waste. The sacrifices of one gave them to you in this world to live._ However, the oath was not honored. The Tzapian people picked up their staves, let down the barriers protecting their country, and fought back. This awakened the curse that slumbered in the deep abyss beneath their island. A bright flash of light engulfed the island and its people, dragging it into the deep. The few survivors of the event were taken in by other kingdoms, mostly Nohr.

"Several people across the Byzen Cluster claimed that in the instant the Kingdom of Tzap sank to the bottom of the sea, the light that engulfed it did the same to the rest of the kingdoms destroying a key location in each. Following the event, the remaining Tzapian magicians studied the strange language that appeared in the Six Sacred Pillars across the kingdoms and theorized it was all connected. A _völva_ from the newly revolutionized Ione claimed that the lands were cursed by the goddess."

"A _völva_?" questioned Kouen.

"A seer," clarified Asta. "Ione always used to have one up until the last one died before my mother's rule began. The _völur _were wise women that were sought after for their counsel."

"They're magicians," said Ilya, further elucidating. "They aren't very strong ones and make up a part of the lower rank of magic users alongside witchdoctors and fortunetellers since they don't possess a lot of magoi."

"The völva called a summit of kings and queens and she declared that another war could not occur in the Byzen Cluster if they wanted to prevent another Tzap Incident," finished Melik. "The Byzen Code was scripted as a result and it has been honored until now."

"Nohrian scholars have been studying the meaning of the language left behind by the incident, but…" Ilya looked to Baron as he was trailing off.

"…not many people here can read the Torran language," said Baron. "Except maybe Asta and Louise of Lorah and let's say expanding their knowledge in it wasn't in their interests."

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Asta. "We weren't on talking terms because of my father and I did my best to learn."

"Commander Johan Ek," said Ilya. He dropped the name as if it was nothing in a lackadaisical tone. He didn't even look at her when he said it.

Asta settled down, her lips were sealed. She was guilty of shunning her lessons for more time at Johan's side.

"Are you saying these islands have any connection to the other world?" demanded Kouen, startling all of them.

Everyone looked at him blankly. She had never seen him so zealous. In fact, she didn't think he was capable of the emotion, but he appeared very passionate about what he finished saying. She swore she saw his eyes were shinning.

"Where are the Six Sacred Pillars?" asked Kouen. They obviously did not react the way that he expected them to and he seemed to have moved onto the next question.

"They're scattered, each country has one," answered Baron.

"If the lands are cursed, should there not have been some response to the invasions of Baryon and Corrin?" asked Kouen, composed again.

"There was a response," said Melik. "It is the reason we mobilized so quickly."

Baron nodded. "As soon as the Kingdom of Baryon was occupied by Ione, the sacred pillar in our country was broken in half."

"Similarly, when Corrin was invaded, my capital was the center of several earthquakes," said Ilya. "The pillar was unapproachable, but those that were near it enough reported to have seen it glow. I have since received reports that the strange activity subsided around a week or so ago. Give or take a few days. We don't know how any of it is possible, of course. The Kou Empire continues to take control of the Cluster using the Ionian army, but I suppose that is a thought for another time. I do understand an army from Lorah is coming to Corrin led by Louise."

"Ah yes, Louise the Conqueror," said Melik, moving to stand next to Ilya.

"If she is allowed to touch down in Corrin, she will not stop until she takes back the country in the name of the Tassos family or is eliminated completely," added Ilya. "It would be best if you would allow me to intercept her and speak to her on your behalf."

Kouen considered his options, or at least it looked like he did before he stole a glance at Asta, and allowed him to do as he wished. "Go."

"If you don't mind, I would like to accompany him," said Melik. "Baron, of course, will remain here to serve."

"Very well," said Kouen.

Melik and Ilya bowed, excusing themselves to prepare for their journey.

Asta touched Kouen's arm, drawing his attention to her. "I am going to speak with Aesop about the people to see if I can convince him to speak on our behalf and end the violence."

He nodded, stopping her when he placed his hand on her shoulder. "You and I have a lot to discuss."

"Okay."

She walked by Baron, touching his arm to reassure him that she would do her best as Hassah suffered the worst offenses. Agnes and Christin joined her outside.

Carina and Aghi were waiting with Aesop in a sparse room with only a table and two chairs. Aesop sat in one with his broad back facing the entrance of the room.

"It amazes me that someone of your reputation would have so much to do," said Aesop.

Asta did not acknowledge that with a response as she occupied the seat across him. Agnes and Christin went to stand behind her a few feet apart from one another. Agnes asked to be present after learning she would be meeting him that afternoon when Christin's magic failed to reveal Nikias' murderer. Something appeared to be blocking them. They agreed to try again after this to make sure that wasn't the case.

Aesop's wrinkles appeared to have deepened in the severity of the conditions he faced locked away in the dungeons with the rest of his men. He was no less daunting than when she had first been introduced to the fearsome commander. He raised his shackled hands to the surface of the table, the chains linking the cuffs together scraped noisily against it.

"What is it that you do all day? Pretend to know what you're doing, playing a game where you don't know the rules, all while looking lovely and poised for your husband."

"We are discussing the people of Corrin," said Asta. "If you wish to be enlightened about the frivolities of my life, I would be happy to oblige you once we have reached an agreement."

"You wish to pretend to know how to negotiate with me now?" asked Aesop. "You may not have been responsible for the death of my prince, but you are guilty of luring him into the battlefield where he was caught to be abused by that savage from Hassah."

"You don't have negotiating power, Aesop," Asta reminded. "You're a prisoner. You have your pride and noble line, but you don't have power. If I were you, I would not waste my time insulting me."

He laughed. "No negotiating power? You want me to speak for the people. You understand that I can call on them and ask that they cease their violent protests against you, that I can speak on behalf of Prince Nikias. You don't think that is power enough? I can choose to remain silent."

"You can, but if you do, there will be no people left for you to save," said Asta. She was bluffing. "It might seem important to you to be prideful and believe that you will be able to get yourself out of this predicament, but the truth is that there is no prince and there are no princesses, the king and queen are dead. Kouen and I have plenty to provide to the people if they want the help and we are willing to wait for them to start seeing that. I don't doubt that if the people remain without a proper government for some time they will see that a lawless country is no country to live in peace. How many of your people are you going to be willing to lose to poverty, famine, and violence? I can comfortably say that I would let them all go."

"Princess!" snapped Agnes, reaching out to grab her shoulder when Carina seized her by the wrist. "You said this was a means to negotiate peace!"

"If you are unwilling to listen to the conversation in silence, you will be escorted out," said Asta firmly.

"Stand back," said Carina.

Agnes did as she was told. She wanted to stay to listen to the rest.

"So, what is your answer Commander Aesop? Will you save your people or let them perish?"

"For a child, you drive a hard bargain," he said, his hands fisted. He directed his gaze back to her, eyebrows drawn to the center. "I cannot abandon the people of Corrin, not when I vowed to protect them, but do not for a minute think that my cooperation means I am accepting to be under the thumb of the Kou Empire, let alone a neophyte like you."

"The people will be gathered in the courtyard tomorrow morning for an official speech. Prepare accordingly."

Asta left her seat, gesturing all of them to follow her as she exited. Outside, she gave the guards orders to place Aesop in a more comfortable room. Once they were far enough from the room, Carina caught up with her and nudged her arm.

"Quite the tough act you put up in there, I almost believed it."

Asta exhaled, pausing in the middle of the corridor and turning around to the others. Agnes and Christin were visibly upset. "It saddens me to have to make such threats, but Aesop would never have agreed to help me if he knew he had any negotiation power."

"That was an act?" asked Agnes, uncrossing her arms.

"I would not be so cruel as to put so many lives at stake." She felt a little lighter with that done. There was no telling how smoothly things would go tomorrow, but she did everything that she could to ensure it went well. "So, if you ladies would be so kind as to help me with a bit of magic, I would really appreciate it."

Christin frowned. "Can I ask you a question?"

"It would be best that you don't," said Agnes.

"No, it's okay, please feel free," answered Asta.

"Is your husband any good in bed?"

Carina snorted.

Aghi gasped.

Asta tilted her head to the side. She didn't think she heard that correctly. "Excuse me?"

"You don't have to answer that princess, in fact, please forgive her," said Agnes, pushing Christin's head into a bow.

"I'm legitimately curious! You can't expect me to ask him that personally!"

Agnes pushed Christin's head down further. "Stop talking now!"

"I mean you can tell with some people, but he's literally giving me zero readings!"

Carina burst out laughing. Aghi elbowed her, covering his mouth.

Asta watched them all blankly. "Can people be good at sleeping?"

Carina doubled over, holding her sides, as she laughed. Aghi started to weep with how hard he was holding back his urge to join Carina. Agnes stared at Asta with a look that seemed to question her.

Wait. Did she understand that wrong? Oh god.

Christin's expression was blasé. "What I meant to say is if he is good at sex? I mean it's all subjective. You can be good with some people, but suck with others. Compatibility—"

"Are you serious? Stop talking. Princess Asta, she's so sorry."

"Oh."

Asta wanted to weep. She was being made fun of, she was definitely sure about it. Why would anyone tease her about sex with Kouen? It wasn't his fault. He was great. She was the one that hated it. Well, she didn't hate it that much now. It wasn't bad like before. In fact, she felt good having sex with him the last time.

Wait. Why was she thinking about it? No.

She removed the thoughts from her head and fully processed what was being asked, her face went red in an instant.

"I'll take your silence as a no," murmured Christin. "It's a shame, really. He's so good looking—"

"Christin! Apologize! Now!"

"_OW!_ I'm sorry, Princess Asta!"

She slowly turned and continued to lead them down the corridor to where they would perform another spell to search for Nikias' murderer, but things were awkward, very much so. She made them that way. She shouldn't have, but she had no way of acting naturally. Nobody did. Actually, she rescinded that declaration. Christin was behaving same as always. Every so often, Agnes apologized to her, embarrassed for Christin's question, and Carina patted her shoulder trying not to burst into another fit of laughter. Aghi did his best to stay calm, but she could see him laughing when he thought nobody was looking and when Asta finally processed it all, she went to kick him because he was making her angry.

Asta didn't think she could look at Kouen directly and pretended to be asleep when he returned to sleep even though he had sounded quite serious about talking to her earlier in the day.

{ **vi** }

Egil presented Asta with her fixed bow that morning before Aesop was slated to speak to the rowdy crowd in the courtyard. She was anxious all morning long that she couldn't sit still while Hua was helping her get ready for the day. She was bathed and clothed and she had been pacing around the entire time. She had anticipated the worst possible outcome to today; especially when she had heard that a few soldiers had been reported missing.

"Thank you," she told Egil, looking at the bow. The quality was impeccable, so she couldn't understand why the string had been so weakly reinforced the first time. It made no sense. Egil was a perfectionist. She looked up from the bow to Egil and the shadow standing beside him. She blinked, startled by it, and it was gone. She handed the bow to Aghi, who stood to her right. "You did a marvelous job on it."

"I appreciate the compliment. I do hope that you put it to good use."

She smiled. "I will the next time I have an opportunity to hunt."

"I meant in war, princess."

Her smile faltered. "Of course."

"I wanted to apologize for my behavior before," he told her. "It is not my place to question your judgment."

"Don't worry about it," she assured with a smile. Things were awkward between them when he showed up before her with the bow, but they were less with his apology. She appreciated the effort. "I'm sorry for raising my voice as well."

"You should not apologize to someone like me," he said, bowing his head. "I should leave you, I have a few more weapons left to distribute."

He bowed to her and started to walk away, but she called out to him. He stopped and turned back to her. "Yes?"

"I don't know if I ever asked before today, but were you there with my father when he was killed?"

"Had I been there, princess, your father's murderer would have been brought to justice."

"Yes, of course. Thank you again, Egil."

She waited for Egil to disappear down the long corridor before she continued her way towards doors leading into the stage above the courtyard. Aghi hurried after her.

"Is there something wrong?" he asked.

"I'm feeling very anxious about today. I don't think it's anything to worry over."

She put on her best smile for him, but she couldn't convince herself. She was worried about today, but she didn't know if there was a reason why or if she was simply anxious. This was a big day. She understood that, but so had every other day. She didn't react the same. It was something about today that was different. She could feel it when she woke up to wish Ilya and Melik a safe trip.

The two had embarked on their journey to intercept the Lorahian force a few minutes before sunrise. Ilya had left the command of his army under his second-in-command, a man called Alexei. He and Melik had only taken twenty soldiers between them. It wasn't much for people of their rank, but they were capable enough to feel safe with fewer men.

Asta had been sad about seeing them go, but she had plans to reunite with them after Corrin had settled. Kouen had informed her that they would travel to Nohr, then Lorah, and finally Hassah to make agreements. She had worried about things back in Ione, especially after Kouen had told her that Kay Åkerman had been captured, but not her aunt, which meant the embers she had been stirring into a fire would continue to be fueled. The promise of seeing the other kingdoms excited her, but she felt she might need to return to her country before going to others.

However, she planned to make that decision after Corrin.

Everything would end today. Things would go smoothly.

Baron and Agnes were making verbal jabs at one another when she arrived. Christin was chatting up Werner. Alexei, a stoic youth, with a trim blond cut was standing with his back straight and undisturbed by conversation in full black armor. Aesop was out of chains and engaged in conversation with Kouen. It wasn't a heated exchange, as one would expect, and when she walked past him, she overheard Kouen discussing the benefits the Corrinean people would reap from becoming a part of the Kou Empire.

She found Carina and Hua waiting for her and went to them. Beyond the doors, she could hear the people shouting, demanding for an audience, growing rowdier with every minute they delayed the conversation.

Kouen ordered them all outside after one of his men returned to give him an update on the security. The sky above them was gray. The clouds were full of water, but everyone anticipated an afternoon storm. There were a few droplets darkening the colorless floor that she observed upon exiting. She saw that the stage for Aesop had been prepped below the long stairs and the people were several feet away, a wall of soldiers would stand between them. Aesop wanted to be near the people when he spoke to them.

Asta swallowed thickly as they ventured down the stairs to reach the bottom.

The sight of Aesop appeared to relieve the people. Whispers of his name were repeated across the crowd. Hope returned to the eyes of many.

And it should have been the end.

"People of Corrin," Aesop began, and the crowd's murmuring stopped. He spoke loud and clearly, his voice seemed to resonate inside of her. "My people. We have suffered enough. You have all done enough. You have all faced the worst of invasion and come out of it strong with your prides intact. You have made the royal family proud. However, you cannot devolve into a lawless country! There needs to be order!"

The people were silent, engaged in Aesop's speech.

"You fought bravely, but the war ended long ago! Our late prince, our Nikias, pledged his loyalty to Princess Asta of Ione—"

"She killed him!" a person in the crowd interrupted.

Several others echoed the sentiment and she feared that it would be over then. That everything would fall apart.

"You're wrong!" shouted Aesop, seizing control of the masses, silencing them. "The woman you see standing before you did no such thing. In fact, she is actively searching for the true culprit and has promised to search the world for our lost princesses. You were fooled by our hidden enemies to believe that she was responsible, but Asta of Ione is a sweet princess. Let us not compare her to the monster that was her father, who slew our king and queen, sold our princesses, and chased our prince from the capital! She stands before you with her hand extended to you. She offers help. We need all the help we can get to rebuild! With backing from the Kou Empire, we can create a new home where we can thrive! The Kou Empire is not our enemy, they are our friend—"

She missed it.

Completely.

She watched Aesop fall to his knees with an arrow sticking out of his throat and blood splattered across the white staircase at his back. She almost screamed in horror, but it died in her throat because as soon as she felt it rise up inside of her, lungs expanding, she was knocked down by the crowd of people that pushed through the wall of soldiers. She heard someone shout that a Kou Empire soldier did it as she struggled against the hands grabbing at her. She searched for help, but she couldn't see beyond the pale faces of her attackers. She was being dragged away and she recalled the time that she had been stolen away.

The Commoner's Revolt. The people had treated her kindly. They had only wanted things to get better for them. They had taken her because they had wanted their voices to be heard. Commander Ivor of the Castle Guard massacred them with his men. No mercy had been given thought she had pleaded for their lives.

This group was different. They were angry. They would tear her apart.

She closed her eyes tight, her heart hammering loudly in her head. She needed to shout for help to be heard, but everything around her was a blur. There were swarming bodies all over the place. She couldn't place any of them.

It was supposed to be over.

Why wasn't it over?

"Princess! Princess!"

She heard Werner above her and a firm hand take her by the arm, hoisting her from the ground, batting away the hands clinging to her. She was pushed out of the crowd, back behind the protection of the wall of soldiers that had been broken through before. Kouen reached her side first and pulled her back onto her feet, but he left her in the care of Alexei. She didn't see Carina or Aghi anywhere. Agnes and Baron were missing as well. She saw Aesop's body on the floor bleeding out. She made a move to go to him, but Hua pulled her by the arm, shouting at her to return to the palace. Christin appeared behind her, shoving her towards the stairs, hurrying her up. Alexei asked to be relieved when they reached the top of the stairs to aid the rioters. She let him go.

It happened too fast.

Everything.

She remembered little by the time she was in a safe location in the palace. Hua went to fetch her clean clothes, since hers were dirtied and ripped. Christin went back to search for Agnes, who had gone after the person that shot Aesop with Baron. Kouen remained outside, finally taking control of the situation; a fact that upset her more than relieved her. It meant all of her methods failed. Of course, they had. It was stupid to think that she could ever succeed. She hated feeling disappointed.

The last update she heard about things was that Kouen calmed everyone.

Egil entered the room as a servant did to drop off a glass of water.

"I came as soon as I heard," he said, sounding exhausted. "How are you princess?"

"Startled," she answered, thanking the servant as she took the cup of water. The servant exited swiftly, her eyes glued to the ground. "I am otherwise good."

She drank deep of the water as Egil found a seat beside her, surprising her by his brazenness. Few people were so direct with her that she wouldn't have paid no mind if they had sidled so close to her. Egil was not one of them.

"That is a shame," said Egil, pushing back the strands of hair over his forehead back. "It would have been less painful."

She lowered the cup, stunned by the sudden change in his tone and the shocking words accompanying it. "What?"

Egil reached his hand over and plucked the cup out of her hands. "I bear you no ill will, my quee," he continued, "but you are no longer necessary in furthering Freja's plans."

She shot up, out of her seat, but she was immediately struck by vertigo and a bloom of pain across her chest. She looked at him, sucking in a struggled breath. The air was thinning. "It was you. What did you do?" She stared at the cup. "You tampered with it." She searched her surroundings. Nobody. Outside, there were guards posted. "Help!"

Egil took her by the wrist and forced her back into her vacated seat. He took her by the throat, giving it a squeeze that made her feel more panicked. She couldn't breathe. She was struggling more with his hand pressing into her throat. "It's no use shouting, your highness, I've dismissed them all," he told her. "You shouldn't struggle either. You should sit here quietly and wait for the pain to come. You'll be writhing on the ground soon enough."

She gripped his hand, trying to force it from her throat. Her chest rose and fell quickly, but the air was too thin. It wasn't going through either. There was something blocking her lungs. "Why? Why did you kill Nikias?"

"Because he was going to talk. It wasn't hard to sneak him a glass of wine when he needed one."

She couldn't think straight. She couldn't make sense of anything. She felt tears rolling down her face. They were hot on her warm cheeks.

"It wasn't ideal," he added, tightening his grip. "I would have preferred to kill him in person, like I did you father. I enjoyed that quite a bit, but who wouldn't. My body still trembles at the thought of having killed the tyrant of Ione. He never saw me coming. It was fantastic. Oh, but you wouldn't have appreciated it."

She slapped him, but she was so weak that it barely fazed him. He squeezed down on her throat more, laughing. She coughed out and tasted blood. It hurt. Her chest more than her throat. She tasted more blood. It was spilling from her mouth. Her body locked. She couldn't move her hands.

Egil threw her to the ground. She was agonizing.

"Farewell, Asta."

Asta heard the door shut as she wheezed. Her throat was closing up. She was going to suffocate to death. Her lungs were burning. The pain was blinding. She couldn't shout.

She was going to die there.

Alone.

It terrified her. To die.

She couldn't.

She knew now. The truth. He did it. He killed them. She knew. She had to do something. For her people. Stop them.

Baron.

Baron.

Baron.

Baron.

Kouen.


	34. (11) Shadow Mirage - Pt 4

**SHADOW MIRAGE**| BRITA GRAHN

| **i **|

_King Hákon was going to host a victory feast in Io Castle and Freja wanted her mystery soldier to be ready to undertake his mission, so she called on Brita to offer him a crash course on the princess. She knew two things about him: he ascended the ranks of the Ionian military under the hidden influence of Freja and he was another pawn for her to use in her scheme to overthrow the king._

_His name was Johan Ek._

_Freja entered the sitting room with a young man following a few steps behind her dressed in his black military garb. He was tall, his body masculine and lean, his eyes were a blue-gray shade, his hair was a dirty blond styled into a mohawk, and his face was handsome. She couldn't deny there was an air of attractiveness about him that she was certain would draw Asta's attention immediately. Freja made a good choice. _

_"Johan Ek," said Freja, "this is Brita Grahn. She works as the princess' attendant. She will tell you all that you need to know about the princess. Absorb the information well and use it to your advantage when you meet young Asta."_

_"Yes, ma'am," said Johan politely._

_"I'll leave you to talk."_

_Freja left the room. _

_Brita hated that she was even asked to do this for her. It was petty that she was employing someone to charm the princess into falling in love with him to have someone around to manipulate her. She prejudged Johan Ek, who agreed to do it, as she gestured him to take a seat. She wasn't in any position to question Freja's methods. That didn't mean she wasn't unhappy about them. She already disliked Johan for his position. She didn't know his circumstances or if he was being forced to do this. All she knew is that he was a part of the plan, a very cruel plan to make the princess fall in love and elope only to be disappointed. _

_She didn't know where to start when it came down to talking about Asta. She had known the girl for quite some time and knew that she was impressionable. She was romantically interested in one of her Guards, a young boy named Sigge, but that wouldn't go anywhere. He would never cross that line with her, even if they were older or if she was queen and ordered him. He respected her too much. Asta liked men easily. She fell in and out of love with them fast. Her Guards often teased her about it. _

_Brita told him as much as she could, disinterested in the topic as a whole. _

_"She likes to hunt. The Senior Commander has been taking her at least once every week since as long as I can remember. If you're good at it, you'll have something to do. She likes riding, swimming, and scary stories. You could do a combination of those if you're creative enough. She likes to eat blueberries, a lot. Take her out to pick blueberries. She'll enjoy it. She likes mangos when they're in season, same with watermelon. She also likes—"_

_Johan leaned forward, looking into her face with a hint of a smile. "What do you like?"_

_Brita frowned. "What?"_

_"What do you like?"_

_She laughed. "Don't be ridiculous, we're talking about your assignment."_

_"Yes, we have already finished talking about my assignment," he told her. "I want to know about what you like."_

_She lowered her eyes, unsure of what to do._

Brita opened her eyes, her cheek pressed hard against the cold ground. The sound of a water dripping filled the space. She was waiting for a punishment, like the others had gotten. She spent so long lying on the cold, dark ground listening to the sounds inside of the dungeon, to the people complaining about having been caught, and the rattling of chains. All she could do was wait because she wasn't hiding her involvement with Freja. She worked for Freja for years. She supported her as much as she hated her stupid methods and her bad decisions. She would be her follower to the end. Deep down inside, Brita wanted to see Freja rule because that meant watching her crash and burn.

Freja would be a terrible queen. She would be the second coming of Hákon. People would be for her at first, but against her the moment they realized their mistake. They were definitely better off with the Kou Empire.

None of that meant she didn't appreciate everything that Freja did for her. In the dark, she wondered if that was the reason that she clung to Freja as she did.

She didn't care if she was going to die today or tomorrow or in another week or two. The people were already treated to Kay's execution. That would be enough to sate them for the time being. The problem was that Freja got away. The worst part was that Bengt did as well. The world could do without Bengt. She'd kill him herself if Freja would give the order and she'd revel in his death.

Nobody would care for a death like hers. She didn't care either. At the end of the day, she lost everything she lived for not too long ago. She didn't have a family, all of her friends were fake, Freja wouldn't care (and she was safe, so she wouldn't have to worry about her either), and she hated the idea of having another opportunity to take another shot at Asta.

She didn't hate Asta. Not completely. Not always.

Fast approaching steps roused her attention and Brita turned in their direction. She moved closer to the bars of her cell and looked beyond them. She saw a cloaked figure peering into each cell as if they were searching for someone until they reached hers, turning around so the light coming in from the carved window above the wall at the end of the corridor lit up the woman's face.

Brita grimaced upon recognizing Bo. It worried her that she didn't move on to continue whatever frantic search she had going, which meant she was searching for her. She didn't understand what she would want from her.

"What do you want?" asked Brita.

Bo wordlessly reached into a pocket in her clothes and tossed a key into Brita's cell. It landed noisily by her feet. Brita picked it up cautiously, her eyes never leaving Bo's thin face.

"What is this about?"

"Your execution was scheduled for tomorrow," said Bo. "You want to forfeit your life because you think it no longer has any worth. You have a worth. There is still more that you need to teach Princess Asta about this world."

"Did she ask you for this mercy?" scoffed Brita.

"No. She doesn't know."

She laughed deprecatingly. "Are you serious about this? I could tell your prince that you released me, I'm sure you won't fare well."

"You can do whatever you want, I don't care."

Bo turned away and disappeared down the corridor before she had a chance to respond. She obviously wanted to avoid being caught. She had to care a little.

Brita didn't understand why Bo would do something like this. She had no lessons to teach Asta about the world. It was stupid. Was it a trap? Would there be someone waiting for her to escape to kill her for trying? Should she take the risk?

She didn't mind. She stared long enough at the key to know what she wanted. Deep down, she wanted to live.

Forgive me, she told herself as she unlocked her chains. I should not have given up on avenging your death, Johan.

She took the risk.

**SHADOW MIRAGE**| END


	35. (12) Mirror Image - Pt 1

**TWELVE**: Mirror Image

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**Baryon**

_The Teacher_.

The kingdom of Baryon is small and considered the weakest of the Cluster, but they're a nation comprised of educators, physicians, and philosophers. Baryon helped establish educational institutions across the Byzen Cluster when the kingdoms were at their early stages of development and they have since been considered the standard in learning. All of the royal families from the Cluster are tutored by Baryon scholars.

Their country boasts advanced medical practices and the development of new remedies. Some of the brightest physicians in the Cluster and a few out in the world have graduated from universities in Baryon.

Baryon is the home of the largest library in the world.

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**xl**: So, it appears the standard for a single chapter currently is 1 month. I do hope you don't mind the wait too much. orz I will continue to strive for 2 updates a month when possible.

Also, oh my sweet bananas guys! We went over the 100 review count! Thank you everyone for your beautifully kind and encouraging words on this story! I know that it's a painfully slow story (but I love it) and so if you've stuck around for 12 chapters already (well, it's 40 after this update). We've also reached over 100+ favorites and 150+ follows, which is a lot for me. Many many many thank yous to you all. I feel all warm knowing that there are so many people keeping a look out for this story. I'm sorry for spamming your inboxes with so many notifications. I do hope that you continue to enjoy yourself as we continue to move through the later half of this arc.

Special thanks to **Renhoa0.0**, **OrenjiNatsu234**, **grimxichixshiroxmomoxorix**, **De hearts 26**, **H****akuryuukun**, **Space Sylph**, ** .calopina**, **Guest 1**, **xenocanaan**, and **Guest 2** for reviewing the last chapter.

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GUEST RESPONSES:

**Guest 01**: I am grateful to you for taking the time to read all of the chapters! I hope that this chapter, though a little later than desired, will sate your curiosity. Thank you for reading and reviewing.

**Guest 02**: Here you are dear, enjoy. Thank you for reading and reviewing.

* * *

Please enjoy the chapter.


	36. (12) Mirror Image - Pt 2

**MIRROR IMAGE** | AGNES KRAUSS

. **i** .

A voice reached her. A sound so distant and strange, it felt as though she was underwater listening to someone shout above the surface.

_"Baron."_

Agnes pursued Baron through the crowd. The Hassahan prince's eyes were sharp and he followed Aesop's killer with the determination of a hunter. She tried to close the distance between them on numerous occasions, but the people were rowdy, pushing and shouting, making it impossible for her to do so, but she kept him in sight. He stood out in his brilliant emerald kaftan.

She admitted that she was surprised to see he was the first to spring into action, same as she. Her impulse dominated her mind impressing upon her a physical reaction that she understood benefited no one in her situation, but seeing the arrow jutting out of the back of Aesop's neck made her angry. Aesop rarely spared her any kindness, but he respected her and accepted her as Nikias' right-hand person. He believed in her abilities and she let him down when Nikias was captured. She could not apologize to him enough, knowing that he vowed to Kyros that if he, the king, fell, the prince would not.

This war was unkind—when had war ever been kind however?

She couldn't help running after the killer. She saw him attempting to disappear into the crowd and chased him, better judgment be damned. She could think of nothing more than to find them and force them to face the consequences of their actions. Someone was clearly targeting Asta and Kouen in every sense of the word and she was seeing it less and less as a reaction to the invasion. This was something else.

_"Baron."_

Agnes stopped abruptly. The swarming people shoved her from side to side. She noticed the rukh behaving strangely around her, carrying with them a sound so desperately distant that she was swept with empathy for its owner. It was a distressing sound. Soft and disappearing the further away that the rukh traveled from her, soaring high over her head beyond the sea of clamoring, angry people shoving and swarming towards the stairs.

All the noise had blended into a mass of indiscernible sound as soon as Aesop was shot down and her mind had gone blank, her body had taken over. She had lost all sense of control—abandoned it with the ease of something unwanted.

That voice snapped her attention back into place. She regained a modicum of her lost composure, enough to receive the message the rukh appeared so frantic to impart.

Something went wrong. Terribly.

Worse than a mass of rioting citizens.

"Baron!" she shouted. He wouldn't hear her. "The princess! Baron! You have to go back!"

Baron froze in the middle of the crowd and acknowledged her with a look before turning around back towards the in the direction of the palace's stairway. She should've remembered her priorities—captured the killer and tortured them for answers—but she doubled back to chase Baron through the chaos.

The horde of citizens struggling to push forward against the enemy's soldiers to snatch at anyone worth the sacrifice they faced at the sharp end of their weapons made it extremely difficult for Agnes and Baron to pass through the path they had previously taken. She watched the distance between her and Baron grow and she grew anxious as it did. She never fared well in large crowds.

More and more people were pushing against her. Strange hands occasionally grabbed at her to call her a traitor and spit in her face. She punched a few of her offenders away when she was able, but there were many more than she ever could have anticipated. She realized as she saw the back of Baron's head flash in and out of her line of vision that she would be swallowed alive. She would fall under the stomping feet and be trampled into the white ground until she was crushed. The conjured image made her shudder.

"Agnes!"

A hand appeared in front of her, a gaudy and expensive ring in every finger. She met Baron's eyes for an instant before she took his hand and felt him pull her through the crowd towards him. Their bodies crashed into one another and she felt embarrassed because of her untidy appearance compared to his. He barely appeared to have broken a sweat.

These Hassahan princes were amazingly immaculate, even in the worst of times.

Baron and Agnes moved past the soldiers stationed at the foot of the stairs and hurried up them just as she sensed a swell of magic sweep through the rioters. She looked over her shoulder as the people slumped down into the ground like dominoes.

Alexei, the quiet knight, slowly ascended from the sky straightening the long black staff he used to render everyone unconscious. Some form of Sound Magic, she deduced with a glance. She would've loved to devote more time picking apart that magician's technique, but she felt too distracted for her brain to process it all as accurately as it would in any other occasion.

"_Kouen._"

Asta was in danger. She realized that now. The rukh were likely communicating a distress call that she was not aware of broadcasting. If so, she utilized Clairvoyance Magic. There was no one else that could've cast it. Well, she couldn't be sure even if there was.

She searched the surrounding area for Christin as soon as the thought filtered into her mind. What if she was with the princess? Was she hurt? She would've tried to communicate with her if something went wrong and Agnes did not see her anywhere in the crowd behind her. She worried for the young woman. Her heart raced wildly in reaction. She couldn't afford to lose any more comrades. She hated to think that there was a possibility that something may have happened to—

Agnes and Baron reached the top of the stairs as Christin scrambled out, nearly ramming into them. She looked from Baron and Agnes in shock. Relief changed her expression and her plump lower lip began to quiver with sadness. She threw herself at Agnes, wrapping her arms around her and thanked god that nothing terrible happened to her.

"Have you see Asta?" asked Baron hurriedly.

Agnes felt his urgency in the marrow of her bones. It was suffocating. She saw it in the stony mask that hid Baron's true emotions. His composure was iron wrought and reinforced by years of disguising the feelings that his older brother's face so easily betrayed. She found it…_intriguing. _To see him, always in control, the mild-tempered brother with a serious streak appear so worried that he would tear the hair from his head.

Asta inspired this concern within him. She meant so much to the Hassahan princes that Agnes admitted to initially believing it was misplaced. Yes, upon first meeting Asta, Agnes' interest was piqued because of how the rukh behaved around her—healing her without her specifying the command. They flocked around her as if they were charmed by her mere existence. She wasn't a magician. She wasn't a magi. She wasn't normal, of that she was certain. What else could she be?

She pushed all of her curiosities into a box concerning the princess after Nikias' death. She became an enemy. The dynamic changed. It continued to do so. Asta baffled her. She spoke to the dead. Never had she ever come across another with that type of ability. It had to be magic. There was no other explanation for it. The theory made sense because the Byzen Cluster had a small magic kingdom. It was almost insignificant, but steeped in enough history that it was regarded by others as something of a hidden gem. She had dreamt of it her entire life, but getting into the kingdom was difficult for non-Byzen natives.

Stop.

What was happening?

"I left her in a room back there," said Christin, then looked at her. "I was worried about you."

"Alone?" demanded Baron. "Did you leave her alone?"

"I-I…uh—"

"Take us to her," ordered Agnes. "She's in danger!"

Christin sprang through the doors instantly, eyes wide in horror. Perhaps, she, too, was trying to process the situation. Understand it. Question it until it made sense to her as to why it was a priority. The princess was supposed to be a stepping stone to achieving their new goals. Find the lost Corrinean princesses and bring Nikias' murderer to justice. Corrin was their home for a few short years and Agnes was committed to doing those two last things for the country before finding a new way to enter Nohr. She couldn't do much else for Nikias, who employed her and her magicians when they needed it. He asked for little in return. For his sisters to be protected. To be shielded.

They failed at both. All of them did. Agnes carried the guilt in her chest.

The princess should not have provoked any reaction in her, but she had. In both of them.

Why?

Asta could be lying to them.

But she saw Nikias because of her.

She was probably using them.

Yet she ran, chasing Baron's back with Christin taking the lead.

Christin stopped abruptly. Agnes and Baron followed suit, aghast by the sight of a murdered servant outside the door. The young woman's blood was splattered across the wall that she was slumped over, her neck cut into deeply.

Agnes looked on ahead and saw a trail of corpses.

"Christin," called Agnes. "Go down the corridor and see if you can find the person that did this. I'll catch up to you, so stay hidden until I do."

Christin nodded and went on ahead, tiptoeing around the bodies on the floor.

Agnes and Baron stormed the room that Christin pointed out to them. It was a sitting room, mostly comprised of comfortable seats, and on the ground in front of a long seat was the princess.

Baron rushed to her side and she followed him, crouching down next to him. He turned her over and quickly assessed the situation. She was shaking, gargling up blood.

"Poison," he said, holding her up in his arms. He searched the surrounding area. "Did she drink something? Was it something she touched?"

It sounded to her that he was thinking aloud while she wondered if he could do anything about it.

He set her flat on her back and began to look at her more carefully, but she was bleeding from her nose making it impossible to stay calm.

"Can you do something?" asked Agnes urgently.

"A quick fix." He reached for the dagger in his belt and uncovered Asta's wrist. The princess' face grew pale. She was hardly making a sound. Her breathing was reduced to a few pained wheezes. He cut into her wrist and as a few beads of blood formed, he brought it up over his mouth, letting a few drops fall in to taste it.

He waited only a second before taking out a necklace from underneath his shirt that carried a small vial with a purple-colored liquid. He tore it from its place and uncorked it, feeding it to Asta. He tilted her head back to make sure that she swallowed it all.

"Leave the princess to me. You have to go find the person responsible. I can't help her if I don't know what poison was used."

"Whoever did this, they won't talk," said Agnes. "You must know that. What happens then?"

"We try every antidote in the book, but we can't let whoever did this get away. It is likely that they are responsible for Nikias' poisoning as well."

Agnes composed herself enough to remember that that was one of her goals. She got back on her feet and rushed out. She followed the trail of corpses in search of Christin. She trusted in Baron's ability to save the princess. That was why she called out for him. She believed in him.

Everything would be fine.

She found that out to be a very conflicting thought to have.

Agnes caught up to Christin at the end of the long hallway. The young woman was crouched down on the floor in front of four pillars leading into a small water garden full of chirping birds and exotic flowers. She saw her casting a spell, moving her wand around in a circle.

"Christin! What are you doing?" she demanded, a blast of cold air went through her from the long balcony in front of the garden.

Christin lifted her head, the rukh around the end of her wand were fading fast with the expulsion of her magic. She shook her head, her face pale and beaded in cold sweat.

"I thought magic could find the one responsible faster than ambling around in circles, but..."

"You couldn't see anything."

"Something is protecting him."

"Him?"

"I tried a different combination to determine his gender through divining his aura," said Christin. "He left it scattered here. His energy."

Agnes finally looked between the two pillars where Christin crouched and saw the water in the innermost pool was a violent red shade. Among the flowers and the marble statues of naked women were bodies floating face down. Bodies of servants and soldiers, same as the hallway.

It was too horrible a sight to take in all at once that she turned away with a sharp gasp.

"This is ridiculous!" she protested. "What kind of person does this?"

"Someone that isn't concerned with dying," said Christin, shuddering. "That's the kind of feeling I get."

Agnes pushed herself and Christin to continue searching the palace for a trace, but they were beginning to draw unnecessary attention. Given that the castle was full of foreigners that didn't trust them like the princess did. Too much suspicion from others could lead to confrontation and she wanted to avoid that.

She and Christin returned to the sitting room where they had left Baron tending to Asta. The prince was there, present at his wife's side with an unreadable expression on his handsome face. His body language betrayed his countenance. His body was tense, jaw clenched tight, and his eyes were focused.

How long ago had they met? She wondered that in search of proper reasoning for the tension in his body. Not long. A quarter of a year, she assumed, maybe more. Four months wasn't enough for anything, was it? Then again, it had only taken her two to sneak inside Nikias' bed after weeks of pining after him, captivated by his beauty. Everyone was different. People experienced emotions at a diverse pace, never the same. She understood that.

However, she questioned whether the reason for his terse behavior was because the princess had captivated him with her spirit—the bright contagious energy that attracted the rukh to her—or by the potential of what she could be. Overall, Kouen recognized his wife as a useful asset. The Kou Empire, being focused on world conquest, required as many assets they could acquire to see it done. If Asta was one, allowing her to die then and there would be a huge loss, especially because she showed so much promise.

Whatever his interest, Agnes couldn't see him losing in any sense. It was imperative to save the princess. He understood that. Perhaps, that was the reason for the intimidating air around him. It was worse than usual. He was never completely unapproachable, but he was now.

Baron stabilized the princess' condition. He was explaining it to Kouen when he noticed them enter and asked, "Did you find them?"

Agnes and Christin shook their heads. Agnes stepped forward to explain the situation as she and Christin left it.

"He won't give us the name of the poison, just as Agnes said," determined Baron, looking to Kouen. "There's no point in torturing him for information we won't receive. Leave Asta to me, but we have to move her."

Asta was carried into the room she shared with her husband and outside, Kouen posted two of the strongest soldiers of his own army and three commanders of the Ionian army, including Werner Tjäder.

There were heavy restrictions placed on the entire floor, ensuring that nobody without permission would be in the top floor could get there. Permission was limited to the two members of the Castle Guard that accompanied the princess, her attendant from the Kou Empire, the soldiers serving underneath the commanders posted, Baron and Nero of Hassah, Kouen, and surprisingly, she and Christin were given authorization—monitored, but permission nonetheless. Even if they did have ill intentions, they would've died long before making it to the princess given that the prince rarely left the room and his hand never strayed far from his sword.

Baron worked diligently at the table, leaving only to gather ingredients for the many antidotes he created to combat the poison, deducing which would work by the princess' reaction.

Asta was burning with a fever for several days and during that time, hardly anyone slept. Agnes offered Baron her aid and stood next to him as he worked. She watched him grind plants into powder, pick the petals off flowers and treat them until he extracted the essence from them, and saw the mixtures come together. A single glass vial of water turned red, violet, blue, a mixture of colors as it became an antidote to several poisons at once.

She placed her hand on the back of the wooden chair where he sat, peering over his shoulder. Christin was with Hua by the princess' bed changing the towels on her body. They had stripped her down to a thin shift and had cold towels on her forehead, neck, arms, and legs.

"Is it true what they say about you?" asked Agnes.

"I thought you wanted to learn about antidotes, Agnes," he said dismissively, "not ask unrelated questions."

"I was curious, and it's a bit boring working without some conversation."

"It is best for you to lay your curiosities down and focus on the task at hand."

Agnes slinked over to the other side of him, braving a teasing touch across his upper back. She leaned over his shoulder, pressing her chest against his arm. "Prince Nikias told me that of the five Hassahan princes, one was very special."

"The special one is Melik."

She was certain he meant to insult his brother by the mocking tone.

"They raised him in a bed of poison," she continued, reaching over to run her finger down his neck. He didn't react in the slightest, his concentration was hard to break. "I hear you've built more than a tolerance to poison. Is it true you're so poisonous that even a kiss would kill a person?"

He cracked a smile, his hands finally stopping as he raised his face to hers. She unconsciously moved back, knowing that the second she did, she lost all power in the conversation. "Are you curious to try?"

"More curious to know, you're not my type."

He went back to work. No reaction. "Then you should stop flirting with me. I'm not like Nikias, it won't get you anywhere."

She bristled, but didn't let it show on her face. Her feelings for Nikias weren't so empty. "Have you considered the possibility that you're not the brother I'm after? Rather, I would say you're helping bridge the gap."

Baron laughed. "Be my guest, Agnes, but a word of advice—a treat for this laugh you've given me—you'd be wasting your time on Melik. He only has eyes for one person and nothing will change that."

"Now, now, Prince Baron, you've made me even more curious."

He paid her no mind after that exchange unless she was contributing useful information.

"Well, do you think Prince Kouen wants to save Princess Asta because he cares for her or because she's _special_?"

"You should ask him." He looked at her with sparkling dark eyes. "Or would you like me to do it for you? I wouldn't mind, of course."

She grinned merrily. He wouldn't dare ask that sort of question of Kouen. "Sure, why not?"

Half an hour later, when Kouen entered the room after arranging for the arrival of his retainers, Baron asked him the very question Agnes didn't dare repeat to his face.

"You have done plenty for Asta," said Baron, "but is your concern for her or for the prospects she represents?"

Agnes felt the room grow cold. Hua didn't dare look up. Even Christin cringed where she sat, which was odd as nothing ever got a rise out of her.

Kouen looked down at Baron, who continued to work, not once lifting his gaze to meet his. Agnes stared at the vials on the table, feeling her cheeks grow hot. She couldn't believe he would actually ask the question. Why was that a good idea?

"If you are so concerned about my intentions with Asta, you shouldn't," said Kouen. "I mean her no harm."

"See, Agnes? You don't have to worry about Asta at all. He just wants to see her better."

Agnes chocked on her saliva and started to cough into her hand, between them, she said, "I was never worried."

She shouldn't have teased him.

"Have you found an antidote that works?" asked Kouen.

"There hasn't been a winning combination, but I've managed to slow the poison down enough that her body is trying to fight it off. We won't be good until the fever breaks though, so Agnes, if you will see to her fever, I would appreciate that."

Agnes left her seat. "Of course."

She went to Asta's side with her wand and used a spell to try and lessen the burden of her fever. She would be more careful of the type of conversation she tried to make with Baron. He was not a prince to be teased.


	37. (12) Mirror Image - Pt 3

**MIRROR IMAGE** |

{ **i **}

_Ingrid sat perched on the windowsill, her profile beautiful and her golden hair falling in curls down her back. He burned the image to his mind—the image of her lost mind and bright green eyes forlorn as they looked upon the sea of trees that comprised of the Hult Province. She appeared youthful and at peace, the ghost of the woman that enchanted him once upon a time._

_She was ill._

_As far as the stories went, there was truth in the origins of when it all began. They were married for a few years and struggled to conceive. They lost one child when Ingrid was only three months pregnant with it and for a short while, it disillusioned them. He focused his attention on his work with the Ionian House and she recovered from the loss for both of them. _

_She possessed more strength in her small, frail-looking body than he could ever dream of having. She was a pillar. His._

_The day that their princess was born was one of both joyous and damning occasion. He wasn't upset by her gender. No. Women were born to rule the warrior people of Ione. That was never the issue. It wasn't that he saw her and that his heart did not respond accordingly, either._

_The day the midwife presented her the child and he held the bundled, squalling child in his arms, he was eager and trembling with excitement. He rocked her gently, so small in his hands, and looked at Ingrid in her bloodied bed with tears forming in his eyes. He took Ingrid's hand and squeezed it tight, thanking her. He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it repeatedly as he professed his love to her. To match that joy by any other occasion would be impossible because nothing in the world existed that could possibly make him that happy._

_He sat at Ingrid's side, returning the child to her. Together they admired her round pink face and trembling mouth. Her eyelashes were pale, she didn't appear to have a trace of eyebrows, and there were only a few wisps of blond hair atop her round head. He rubbed her furrowed brow gently and she shuddered. The infant finally calmed in the warmth of her mother's chest, her small ear pressed over Ingrid's slow beating heart going _thump, thump, thump, _like a rhythmic lullaby._

_Around them, the midwife and servants gathered the dirty sheets and towels, slowly cleaning and rearranging the room, returning it back to its former state._

_"What should we name her?" asked Ingrid, looking at him with bright, sparkling green eyes. _

_"Serra?" proposed Hákon. _

_Ingrid puffed her cheeks out in a frown and shook her head._

_"No? What about Elaine?"_

_"Maybe we should think about it for some time?" asked Ingrid. She was distracted by the midwife leaving and called out to her. "Maeve. Please, come here. Tell us what you see."_

_Hákon watched the squat woman with the wild hair move to Ingrid's side. The woman was a midwife, not among the popular women in her profession because there was a rumor that she was a seer. Ingrid believed this. He was a little more skeptical about it._

_It was in that instant, where Maeve covered the infant's forehead with her weathered hand and closed her eyes to predict the end that everything slowly descended a spiral of darkness. The end. _He _was the key. She was the lock._

_She tried to drown her._

_That was when it happened. That was when he knew that she was ill. She was giving her a bath, scrubbing their giggling child behind the ears one minute and the next, she pushed her head under the water and held her there, her eyes were black and void of emotion. He had to push her hard, away from the girl because she wouldn't let go. The young servant that saw would never speak a word of it. He could not allow her to do so and in a split decision, pushed her out of the window to a chorus of his daughter's coughing and wailing. _

_Ingrid started to scream, lucid again. _

_That seemed like so long ago now. Sixteen years to be exact._

_Ingrid noticed him and dropped her feet down on the carpeted floor, moving towards him. As she approached, he knelt before his queen, feeling her hands fall atop his head, fingers ghosting across his short hair._

_"Asta?"_

_"She is with Johan," he answered, reaching for her hands to kiss them. There was a code between them. One that they established long before the sickness corroded her insides until she became a foreign sight, bone thin and withering like a flower without water. He waited for her to speak the code to know whether she was lucid or not. It would make the difference between talking around in circles or directly._

_"I saw a crane bathing in the lake," she told him._

_He rose to his feet, releasing her hands._

_"I secured the Kou Empire," he said, dropping all airs. "They will send an envoy to settle a contract. It is likely that they will want the entire Byzen Cluster as a dowry."_

_"One day, they will understand why they must sacrifice their kingdoms and crowns to the empire. If she falls into the wrong hands, it would be disastrous. So, she cannot stay here and she cannot go out there. How do we win in this situation? Do you know?"_

_"No."_

_"I don't have much time left. My body is weak. It grows weaker every day. I won't survive much longer."_

_"She will have me. I promise you. For as long as she needs me, even if I have to guide her in death."_

* * *

Asta opened her eyes and saw the wooden canopy materialize above her. Along with it were specks of shining gold floating around her face slowly vanishing. She opened her mouth to speak Egil Vång's name to end him, but from her lips a strange croaking sound came out and her throat contracted painfully, dry. All of her limbs were heavy and her skin was prickled, thousands upon thousands of bumps surfaced from the sudden cold.

"Princess!"

Hua's worry-stricken face appeared above her, pale with her dark eyes wide with emotional tears.

"You're awake! Oh, good, you're awake!" She sounded so relieved before she scrambled away to fill a glass of water for her to drink. Hua helped her drink a bit, but Asta felt little of it go down her throat and started to choke, coughing it all back up with a little else that tasted of copper. Hua wiped up the water and blood from her mouth and neck. "I'll call Lord Baron and inform his majesty immediately."

She tried to grab Hua's wrist before she went, but she couldn't raise her hand to do so. Hua ran out of the room. She tried to call out to her, but the bedroom door slammed shut with her hurried exit. They needed to know that Egil was to blame before it was too late. He almost killed her. He killed her father. He killed Nikias.

Baron and Kouen entered the room several minutes after Hua left it.

"You were saying that there was blood?" asked Baron.

"Yes, a little," said Hua.

"I see. I have a few other concoctions I haven't tried, but they're a little stronger. One of the previous mixtures must have done the trick since the fever broke." Baron covered Asta's forehead with his hand. He smiled down at her. "You have a little color in your cheeks. It'll be a bit before we get the poison out of your system, but you'll get better every day. So, please, Asta, don't cry."

She closed her eyes as tears slid down the side of her face. She didn't realize she was crying until he said it.

"Can you speak?" asked Kouen, looking down at her from where he stood behind Baron's seated form.

She tried, but it hurt. She spoke illegibly, trying to sound out Egil's name because she needed to tell them. All of them to be wary of him. Imprison him. Execute him. He couldn't get away with what he had done. He couldn't. How dare he?

They were frustrated tears.

How could he?

"There was a lot of swelling in your throat because of the poison. You'll talk little by little. Day by day. Just practice."

Baron fed her a mixture of an antidote and promised a different dose on his next visit to her room. He asked her to rest as much as possible and took Hua aside to talk about what she would be feeding her later that afternoon.

It was morning. There was no light filtering into the room. It was dark, lit only with a cluster of candles she saw in her periphery sitting on the table next to her bow.

Kouen waited for Baron and Hua to depart. He sat down beside her and she felt his fingers ghost across her knuckles. The skin underneath his touch burned. His red eyes were lowered as he felt the palm of her right hand. Her numb fingers reacted to his touch, twitching reflexively.

She parted her lips.

"Don't force yourself to speak," he told her, holding her hand in his with a strange gentleness. The cold of his touch seeped into her flesh. "Sleep, eat, and grow stronger until you can leave this bed."

She nodded slowly, closing her eyes as more tears spilled from them. She felt his thumb sweep across her left eye, removing the tears. She startled, her eyes fluttering open. He was closer to her and reaching to wipe the tears from her other eye.

Kouen leaned forward and kissed her lips. "You're my queen, Asta, and you're not allowed to die."

He said it because he needed her. That was all. Maybe there was some concern. They knew each other long enough to have become familiar and more comfortable, but not for her to allow a few words to make her heart swell so much it would burst. However, it was nice to feel that way. It calmed her down.

She exhaled deeply.

Kouen pulled away, but she tightened her hold on his hand. She couldn't let him go. He returned to his seat. She tried to sound out Egil's name remembering how after she had taken that sip of water, he had revealed that he killed her father and Nikias, but she could only croak out a few sounds.

"What is it?"

Her bow at the table caught her attention and she raised her heavy hand, her fingers trembling as she tried to curl them in her palm to point at it with her forefinger. He followed the direction that she pointed towards.

"The bow?" he asked, turning back to her.

She nodded.

With a lot of difficulty, she brought her pointing hand to her lips. It felt like a stranger's hand, heavy and foreign because of the numbness.

Egil poisoned me.

He arched an eyebrow.

He poisoned me.

She tapped her lips.

Egil poisoned me.

Tiny gold birds fluttered around him. He narrowed his eyes.

"Say it again," he said. He heard her.

He poisoned me.

He poisoned me. He killed my father. He poisoned Nikias.

"Who?"

Egil.

Egil.

Egil.

Egil.

Egil.

She repeated it to the point that she shouted it in her head. She would have screamed it at the top of her lungs, but as she repeated it, she noticed a change in his expression. His eyebrows drew together.

"Egil Vång?" he asked. "He did this."

She nodded.

Kouen left the room quickly and she saw him approach one of the guards posted at the entrance before the door slammed shut. Her whole body shook and she closed her eyes, the frustration in her ebbing. It was done.

He wouldn't hurt anyone.

Not again.

Ever.

She should have felt satisfied with that because she was furious after having learned that he was to blame for those deaths along with the attempt he made against her. She needed to remind herself that an attempt against her life simply could not be forgiven. The same went for any life. It wasn't right. Hers wasn't any more special than others.

Asta wished she could have continued to sleep, but she was incredibly restless because she didn't know what was happening out there. Would he be caught? Of course, he would. Kouen would take care of that. He was probably the most efficient person in the castle. After the things that he told her as his fingers caused goosebumps over her skin, she would never doubt him.

_"You are my queen, Asta, and you are not allowed to die."_

She exhaled deeply again.

Baron returned hours later to give her another dose of a new antidote and he brought her up to speed on the outside situation.

"The bastard and his son were gone when we went out there. All of the blacksmiths were imprisoned, a few of them confessed to knowing after a little torture." Baron looked at a couple of his vials. "Nobody knew what poison he used. We're looking all over Corrin to find him. He won't get away, Asta. Know that you are safe here and sleep. You need it."

Asta cried in frustration.

Hua returned and rarely left her side. She helped her eat, bathed her, and dressed her. She did this diligently. She wanted to make sure that she got better as soon as possible so that she could return to her husband's side. Kouen wasn't sharing her room either, but he visited on occasion when he wasn't busy hunting down Egil and his son. He didn't speak to her much as he tended to arrive while she was asleep and when she would wake, she would hear the soft noise of a page turning like a whisper in her ear.

Baron took care of her, nursing her back to health. Agnes dropped in occasionally, sometimes accompanied by Christin. The shorthaired magician once took it upon herself to beautify her, so that she could appeal to her husband even while she was in bed recovering from near death. For several hours, Asta truly believed that she was going to look beautiful until Kouen walked in, took one look at her face, and told Christin to scrub the paint from her face. Asta almost cried. Christin laughed so hard she actually did cry.

Aghi and Carina worked outside in shifts with the other guards. They told her all of the gossip concerning the capital, which had settled after Kouen had taken control of it, and the little information they possessed about Egil. They told her that he bribed the people with stores of food and money, as well as the promise of a better future. She imagined he was a much more articulated speaker, capable of inspiring anyone, because everything seemed to have fallen into place. Some people were simply natural born leaders, she supposed, but she wasn't going to be jealous of her husband for how much he accomplished in so little time. She was learning her way around those things.

In actuality, it made her happy to learn that he had not used force as he so often promised. It appeared to her that as skilled as Kouen was at war, he was very good at settling things diplomatically.

She learned Egil made it off with two of Agnes' magicians, which explained why Christin and the Kou Empire's magic users were having trouble pinpointing his location. Nothing about them was known. It was as if they had turned to smoke.

It took time. She stopped counting the days since she woke up because they all blurred together into a single never-ending day. Little by little, she was doing more and with less pain, but there were times when she was forced to go back down until the fever broke. She talked more and more every day, the swelling in the inside of her throat diminishing until there was nothing left hindering her speech.

Asta was taking care of all of her basic needs in a week and by two, she was back on her feet, moving around restlessly in an almost transparent shift waiting for Kouen to return to sleep. Earlier that day, he reminded her that they had a few conversations pending. She was dreading them and hoped that by some miracle, Egil was found instead.

She didn't know enough about the Tzap Incident or Torran language or any of those other interesting things that he wanted to talk about because she never paid attention to those bits when she attended lessons. She hated that reality as well.

She thought that she could distract him somehow. She didn't know what she was going to do yet.

Asta startled as soon as the door opened, but relaxed after seeing Christin, who sauntered in with an awed look.

"You have no sense of danger, letting whoever wants to barge in," she commented, her bright green hair bouncing around her jaw line. She didn't say the words in a condescending way, rather it sounded more like an observation that she was making. "I suppose that's why you are so well liked. Your king, however, is a different story, security everywhere, nobody passes without his approval, some people don't even get to look at him cause they're beneath him. It's amazing really. You really want to mess with those types—hey, what's with the getup? Are you going to sleep? Or are you taking a bath? Am I asking too much? Agnes says I talk too much and ask too many questions, in fact, she told me to limit my questions to you to one and to your husband to zero. I'm just naturally curious, you see. Nothing wrong with that right?"

"No," said Asta, unsure of whether or not she expected an answer to all of those questions. "Curiosity is good to have. My mother always said so."

Christin brightened. "Was it true? That thing about your mother?"

"What?"

"At the expense of sounding rude and all, but you know"—and Christin leaned close to her and whispered the word—"_crazy."_

"She was ill," said Asta. She couldn't hold other's curiosities against them or act offended because the rumors were all they knew. The youthful magician didn't mean to be mean about it either so she had no qualms about answering her questions. "She wasn't crazy."

"Oh, sorry, that must have sounded bad, right?" asked Christin. "My mother was ill, too. She used to hallucinate and _boom _there were flesh eating fish in the sink. She was a magician like me. Both of my parents were actually. My dad died though. In a war too. My mom, she started losing it when I was still little, but I had my older sister to help, so it really wasn't that bad. Although, flesh-eating fish aren't something you want in the water around the house. One bit a bit off my leg, I've still got a scar on my thigh, wanna see?"

Without her giving her and answer, Christin raised her skirt up to her thigh to show her a small scar a few feet above her knee.

"It hurt like Satan."

"I'm sorry to hear about your mother and father," said Asta.

"Thanks." Christin casually leaned back on the foot of the bed. "So are you trying to seduce the king or something?"

"Seduce him? No," she answered. "Why would I?"

She shrugged. "To keep things interesting, I guess. For someone that's bad in bed I didn't think he'd be hard to please, so you can probably get away with being lazy, which is great."

She lost her. "What?"

"You just don't have to try so hard. I mean, excuse my frankness, but I have dealt with some weirdos that really make you pull out all the stops. It's good exercise, but it isn't that much fun. Sometimes you have an itch and you have to scratch it. I generally don't enjoy it. Not really and the less I have to do the better, but everyone is different."

"Oh." Asta couldn't believe that she was thinking about everything that Christin finished blurting out. She didn't have much experience so it amazed her to know someone that did have it. "So is that normal? Not to enjoy it."

"It feels normal to me. Why shouldn't it be?"

"I had trouble...adjusting to it," she said, embarrassed. "It feels good now…w-well recently, but before it was terrible."

"Oh right, well, you're a princess and it must have been your first time with him, huh? It's normal not to enjoy it at first. It gets better. I don't like the act at all, but sometimes I just feel like doing it. Again, everyone is different. You should do well here. Distracting him in that scant shift. You're a pretty girl, princess. I'm sure the men just line up for you all automatic and whatnot."

She laughed. They didn't, of course. She was small and her body wasn't as well-developed as other women. Then again, women came in different shapes and sizes. She assumed that Kouen likely preferred someone with a bigger chest and taller, leaned body—like Agnes, who was all curves and sex appeal.

"Well, I think I took too much of your time," said Christin headed for the door.

Asta had a thought. The magician said it herself when she pointed out Asta's appearance but she didn't know what she would do to actually detract from having that conversation he wanted.

"How does one go about seducing someone?" she asked aloud.

Christin stopped by the door. "All you have to do is get naked and you're already halfway to conquest."

That didn't help.

Kouen showed up after Asta had grown tired of waiting. As he walked to the bed briskly, she realized that she couldn't just take off her clothes. She was too shy. It wasn't like he had never seen her naked. He had on various occasions and at the end of the day that was just the sort of distraction that she believed might be a good idea to use against him to avoid talking about her embarrassing past.

However, she caught herself watching him undress as if he was doing it in slow motion. His body was taut, skin tight across his chest and abdominal muscles, and his back was broad, smooth, and perfect. He had the body of a warrior, thoroughly toiled with until reaching perfection. Running her hands down his hard muscles was something she enjoyed taking advantage of during sexual relations.

Kouen joined her, sliding into her bed from her side, which made her move to make room for him. Her red-tinted cheeks amused him because he smiled and brushed his fingers across her warm face.

"I've given you plenty of time to recover to have this conversation," he started. "Tell me about the Sacred Pillars and the Torran language on them."

"Well, you know what the pillars are because of what Ilya said," she said nervously. "There isn't much research committed to them in Ione, so I don't quite know about them. As for the language on the pillar in Ione, I think it's just...a story."

She stole a glance at his face and grew anxious knowing that he was staring at her blankly. Oh god. Her face heated up, turning an agitated red shade.

"...You don't know anything about the Torran language," he deducted.

"I can barely read it, but the scholars in Baryon would be a good source of information if you want to know more."

"You were learning it for a reason and you will finish the teachings even if I have to teach you the language myself. No more distractions."

"You would be a distraction."

"I would?"

"Yes, you would. I'll learn what you want me to, but don't teach me, I'll never pay attention to anything you say," she blurted.

She'd probably grow bored and stare at his mouth until he let her kiss him into distraction. She'd never learn with him. At least not something like that where normally the strictest instructors were necessary in hammering new information into her brain. She learned better with harsh teachers that made sure she was learning and not daydreaming. Sure, they yelled at her a lot and chased her down until they found her, but she learned because of them.

He laughed.

"I'm sorry!"

He didn't stop laughing. She didn't understand why that was and grabbed him by the top of his robe, the soft material slippery in her hold.

"Why is that funny? I was being honest!" Despite the protest, she felt giddy about having made him laugh...even if it was at her.

He stopped, taking her small hands in his and removing them. "You aren't telling me something."

No.

"No?"

He shook his head. He couldn't be that perceptive; then again, it wasn't as if she wasn't being obvious about her crush on him. Everyone knew about it. She wouldn't be shocked if he knew. Oh. If he did. She assumed that her father might have told him to take advantage of it. That disappointed her. Would he was another question? She didn't ask it.

Then again, he didn't say anything after. He took her chin between his forefinger and thumb to draw her into a kiss. It was all she wanted after feeling the press of his mouth on hers two weeks ago. He definitely understood her. He was very perceptive catching all of the signs.

One of his hands fell over her thigh and the resulting heat spread from across where he left it. The other hand was moving from her chin to wrap around her waist, closing the gap between them. She opened her mouth against his with a bit of nudging on his part and her stomach jumped when his tongue slid across her lower lip. She wrapped her arms around him to deepen the kiss and slid closer to his body.

They separated for breath. His red eyes locked on hers and she was breathing shallowly, a swell of excitement went through her like a shock of electricity.

She understood what came next. She nodded before leaning in to lock lips with him again. He hoisted her small body onto his lap and slid his hands underneath her shift, moving them up from her backside to the bend of her back to her shoulder blades.

He kissed her with considerably more difference than he ever had before. There was an attractive urgency to his advances. He wanted her. He wanted her bad enough that his control was slipping, but he didn't lose it. Not completely. He would always be in control. One way or another.

"If in any instant you feel weak, stop me," he told her, his breath warm on her mouth and his eyes smoldering red.

"Yeah," she agreed, nodding and accepting the fervent kiss he gave her. Her lips were tingling when he left them to kiss her neck and collarbone.

He pulled back to remove her shift and cast it aside. He pushed her down on the bed, his large hard body above hers. He parted her knees to settle between them and caressed the sides her body with his rough hands. She trembled, from the inside quivering right under the surface of her skin. She couldn't stop. As he left kisses on her chest, turning his attention to her small breasts. Teasing her nipples with his mouth and fingers, licking the erect points with his tongue flicking them, sucking them, nipping at them softly in turns. He left them aching and sensitive, moving down to kiss her navel, making her giggle when he made it to her bellybutton.

She covered her mouth when he looked at her, but he grinned. She wondered if that meant he liked doing all of those things to her. He was certainly deft at it, and he had no reason to try to prove himself skillful to her, or even to make her feel as good as he did recently. Doing these things, or rather engaging in sex specifically was an act to procreate. She assumed that as long as the deed was done, it didn't matter if one felt good or not, but others told her that it felt good, so she was curious.

Would it feel good if he didn't kiss her lips, touch her breasts, or teased the entrance between her legs until she was ready to take his shaft inside? If it was him inserting his penis into her vagina and moving it around, would that be good or simply committing to the job description?

As soon as she felt his mouth against her mons, all thought abandoned her. He buried his face between her legs and kissed her so slow and intimately that she bit down so hard on her lips they bruised. She gripped the sheets, arched her back, squirmed, and panted his name. He focused his attention on the areas that made her cry out louder and performed beautifully until all the knots in her lower abdomen unwound, her inner walls contracting, and the resulting pleasure that washed over her left her limp.

He returned to lie beside her and turned her on her side, kissing her cheek and shoulder. He asked before positioning her on all fours and hovered over her small, naked body with his hair disheveled and his robe falling off his shoulder revealing the tight musculature he gained through years of hard training. He trained her on his fingers, pushing one, then two, and finally three in and out of her smoothly until she was dripping wet and ready for him. He held her by the hips and pressed into her. She wasn't used to it yet, not completely, but her legs weakened, trembled beyond her control. He moved the head of his shaft inside of her shallowly, his own breathing becoming strained as her insides wound tight around him. She wasn't sure if that hurt him, but it was a pleasant feeling for her.

The wet sounds of their joined bodies made her feel embarrassed. Her shoulders reddened alongside her ears. His hand slid up her back, moving up to her head to bunch up her hair to the other side and leaned forward, thrusting more of his shaft inside her the closer his mouth was to her ear. His hot breath tickled down her neck and he wrapped one arm around her upper chest, his hand covered her shoulder. His other hand moved underneath her body sliding further down her navel to her sit just above her clit. She felt so small under him, his weight pressed down above her made her want to melt into the mattress. His body was hot, covered in sweat that she felt falling on her like cold water droplets.

"How do you feel?" he whispered.

"Good. I feel..._ahn..._sogood."

He thrust into her completely and she moaned too loud. She worried the guards would hear and pressed her mouth into the pillow to muffle the sound. Kouen reached down to snatch the pillow from her, tossing it aside as his thrusts grew stronger and her voice louder. She made a sound in protest, but he only told her that he wanted to hear her voice. He was in too deep. She felt so strange. Incredibly good, but strange and then he started to tease her clit, timing it with his thrusts, and her mind went white, her shaking body numb with pleasure.

It was a combination of all of those things that made her come faster than normal, but he wasn't done yet. He was still hard and pulsing inside of her after her inner walls stopped contracting. He turned her over when she told him that she wanted to kiss him, her voice thin and breathy, and plunged into her. He took her by surprise, robbed her temporarily of breath, but his movements slowed. He created more friction between their bodies as he kissed her softly, their tongues sliding across one another and searching their mouths. She tightened up before her next orgasm. She knew he was close when he groaned into her mouth. It was such a satisfying sound to her ears that she wanted to hear it again and again. She raised her hips to meet his thrust and he moaned again, cursing beneath his breath. She did it again, adjusting to each of his movements until he was bent over her body, pumping into her, with his forehead against her shoulder. His grip on her hands tightened the more she undulated her hips to satisfy him.

His hips jerked, pushing deep inside of her as he released. He remained inside of her for a few minutes before he left her. She folded her legs and brought her knees closed. She laid in bed with her arms outstretched, staring up at the canopy as she tried to regulate her breathing.

Kouen left the bed to clean himself off and replaced his wrinkled robe with another. He returned to sit down at her feet with the damp cloth. Her thighs were all sticky and she wanted to clean up that as well as the coat of sweat on her body.

"Here," he said, handing the cloth to her, but pulled it back, "or would you prefer I do it?"

Asta sat up before standing with his help and, feeling incredibly powerful, went to stand between his legs, feeding off his energy. He stared at her with the same hungry look as he slid the damp cloth up her leg until he reached the end. He kept his eyes locked on hers the entire time, something carnal sparkling in them. He threw the towel into the basin of water sitting on the nightstand and dropped her back onto the bed, hovering over her. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, inviting him wordlessly to ravish her again.

She slept in his arms pleasantly, feeling a little bit of the pinprick of soreness.

In the morning, with sunlight brightening the room, Asta woke seconds after Kouen sat up in bed, seeming a tad dazed and disheveled. It would be about half an hour before Hua arrived to get her through her morning routine.

Asta woke up refreshed and stretched her tight muscles. She leaned over the pillow sitting by Kouen's feet, draping her arms over his legs. She wondered when she had become so comfortable with him that doing something like this wasn't a huge decision that upon execution would appear suspiciously awkward.

Kouen touched the top of her head and she smiled up at him, resting her cheek on her arm. "Good morning."

"Morning."

Her body remembered the things he did to her last night and her pale, freckled cheeks took on a little bit of coloring. He brushed the back of his fingers over one, pushing away the loose strands of hair that were in the way. She was drawn to his touch, following it to keep his warm palm on her much longer.

"Might I ask you a question?" she asked curiously, recalling the stray thoughts that had filled her head while he was kissing her body until she was panting and so sensitive that the lightest touch took her over the edge.

Kouen took a lock of her hair and rubbed it between his fingertips. "Is there something you need?"

She swore she saw him murmur the word "_soft" _before releasing her hair and raised herself up onto a seat, holding the sheets to her chest. She tried to think up a way to say it. There was no way she could phrase it without it being considered vulgar...she supposed.

"We, _uhm_, what we do—_did_—yesterday, I know that it is our duty because we need to have an heir, but I don't understand why if it can be done so easily, we do other things." She couldn't look at him after finishing.

"Do you hate doing those other things?" he asked, his finger underneath her chin to guide her attention back to his face.

"No," she assured. "I don't hate them at all! I'm not complaining at all, it's just what I know has been one note really and a lot of people lie to me in order to tease me. Lady Bo just told me I had to have a baby, so I thought it would be more to the point...no in between."

He stared intently at her face for a long silence that made her feel a little awkward about having proposed the conversation.

"The act fulfills more than one purpose—procreation, desire, love," he told her, caressing her face. His finger moved against her bottom lip and she felt her body respond accordingly, all the heat from her face sank down to the pit of her stomach. "I want to make you feel good. It is only fair that you should feel as satisfied as I do."

She swallowed hard, visibly she presumed for his eyes seemed a lot more focused on her mouth. She felt the air thin.

"Do you feel satisfied...with me?" she asked, her breathing gone shallow.

Kouen advanced towards her, taking her gently by the wrists. He moved closer until she was lying flat on her back with his body hovering over hers. His grip on her wrists loosened as he moved his hands into hers, their fingers linking.

"Yes. Very. More and more as your body adapts to mine and I to yours."

She flushed, feeling he was quite responsive. Oh. "Can I do more for you? It feels like you do more and I—"

He shook his head. "Not now. I'm satisfied with what we do."

Asta smiled and raised her upper body to kiss him.

He drew away after a slow, heated lip lock. She chased his lips, his hot breath tickling across her sensitive mouth, and giggled.

"Is the door locked?" she asked softly.

Kouen looked. "No, it doesn't appear so."

"I'll get it."

He released her and she slipped out of bed to lock it. She quietly pattered to the bed to join him again and he met her halfway, pulling her up into his arms. His mouth was quick to cover hers, his hands moving up her back to slide into her hair. She wrapped her arms around his neck and tilted her head to deepen the kiss.

The morning was long and eventful, but Asta ended up sick in bed by evening.

"You should know your limits," Kouen said critically.

Asta wept into her hands, curled up under the covers. "I don't want to hear that from you."

{ **ii** }

_Hákon waited idly for Bengt to pack up the maps and plans for Baryon. It would be the easiest kingdom to take. Baryon was Ione's closest neighbor and were firm believers in the evolution of the mind through knowledge—a kingdom of scholars and educators, a hodgepodge of learning. Their army was small, fit enough to serve its purpose, but not strong enough to put up too much of a fight._

_A knock made the thoughts in his mind turn to smoke and leave him. He raised his eyes to the entrance, watching Werner peek into the office as Bengt exited with a bow. _

_"Do you have a moment?" asked Werner, ever polite._

_Hákon barely moved from his position, keeping both hands behind him. "A moment? Yes, come in, Werner."_

_A moment, he thought as he watched his cousin enter the office donned in a relaxed outfit suited for a peasant. Werner was an oddity among the Tjäder family—a black sheep, one would say for he lacked in their trademark ambition. Nepotism bought the family positions for generations, but their own motivations kept power within the family._

_Werner entered the army because it was expected of him, but he climbed the ranks on talent and skill alone. Senior Commander of the Ionian army was a bought title, but he earned it. For that, Hákon would admit to some disdain for he never earned his positions save Head of House Tjäder out of merit. What was the point if there was a shortcut? Werner simply did the honorable thing._

_"Have you come to see, Asta?" asked Hákon. "She would appreciate some time away from Lady Bo."_

_"No, I didn't, but I do plan to greet her on my way from here."_

_"Well, what did you want to speak of so urgently that it could not wait?"_

_"I come to ask you to relieve Asta of this new burden you've given her."_

_Hákon laughed. "Again, Werner? Were you not satisfied with my first five answers? Did I not reveal Commander Ek as one of Freja's dogs? I justified my ruling of him, you approved the execution."_

_Werner's hands curled into fists at his side. "What was I to do? His intentions were cruel, same as yours, but at the very least, he made her happy. You, you've caused her nothing but misery. You took her from her mother—"_

_"She tried to kill her. Not just once. Twice. She was old enough to realize it the second time." Hákon placed his hands on his desk, leaning forward. "You can ask me to relieve Asta and hand her over to you as much as you want, but she's my child and I do what I see fit for her. She gains absolutely nothing from being babied by the likes of you."_

_Werner's pale eyebrows knitted. He took offense. He would. If there was a father figure in Asta's life, it was Werner. He taught her everything that she wanted to know. Perhaps, for that reason he was especially difficult with his cousin. _

_Bengt disturbed them with a knock that cut off whatever remark Werner was about to unleash and at Hákon's beckoning, the balding man entered with a tired look on his face, behind him a squat woman with stringy hair—the midwife._

_"Your majesty, I have brought the midwife as you asked."_

_Werner huffed. "You continue to take advice from this fraud?"_

_"If you want to continue barking at me, wait outside while I speak with Maeve."_

_The small woman stepped forward with her hand held up as Bengt excused himself and departed. "There's no need for you to dismiss your cousin so easily. You should keep him at your side, so keep him pleased."_

_Werner glared at her as she laughed._

_"What fortunes do you bring?"_

_She raised two bony fingers. "I brought two."_

_"Let's hear them."_

_With an exasperated huff, Werner stormed out of the office, slamming the door shut behind him, further amusing Maeve._

_"Quite the hot temper that one," she commented, but proceeded. "Your campaign against Baryon will go accordingly. As you know, they possess many weaknesses. Exploit them, and you will have no worries. Send Werner alone to Corrin, for the kingdom will need a firm hand."_

_"Werner alone to Corrin? Do you fear for my life, Maeve?"_

_"No, I do not fear for it," she said simply. "If you go to Corrin, you will die."_

_"I will die?" he questioned, the words were of a foreign taste on his tongue._

_"Indeed, you will die."_

_Hákon felt his lips curl at the ends. "So be it."_

_"It will be a painfully useless death, my prince."_

_That only made him laugh._

* * *

The state of Corrin improved in her absence and Asta felt defeated by her own inexperience. The Kou Empire was not all around welcomed, but the protests against it weren't as loud as the people were aware that without it, they would not have enough to survive. Kouen demilitarized Corrin temporarily to avoid a large-scale rebellion.

More Kou Empire soldiers and builders were helping in the reconstruction. Corrin was officially a part of the Kou Empire's territory and it pained her to recognize how many people had to be lost in order to gain it.

Asta stood outside the palace at the top of the staircase and stared out into the courtyard hedged in by trees.

"It is good to see you up, princess," said Aghi behind her. Carina beside him nodded, smiling.

She smiled at the sound of his voice. "It feels good to be outside."

The sound of quick footsteps reached her and when she turned, she caught a flash of green hair bobbing around Christin's small face. Agnes and Baron followed close behind her.

Christin stopped in front of her, smiling gleefully with her staff behind her.

Baron halted at Asta's side. "Do you have any idea why we were called out here?"

She blinked up at him confused. "Did Kouen call you here?" She looked at the others. "All of you?"

"Yup," said Christin. "We received word from the princes too. Something about meeting with The Conqueror."

"Oh. Does that mean we're moving on?" asked Asta.

"It would seem," said Agnes.

Asta furrowed her brow, displeased. "What about Egil? He's still out there somewhere!"

"That's what I would like to know," said Baron, arms folded over his chest.

Carina peered out from Aghi's shoulder. "Looks like he's coming and he's brought company. Aren't those the soldiers that arrived this morning?"

Aghi looked over his shoulder. "Seems that way. I heard they're his household vessels."

"All of them?" asked Asta.

"I shouldn't be surprised that you don't know how many household vessels he has, but I am. I honestly am," said Carina, disappointed. "Given that by this point you would normally have twenty journals full of notes."

"Twenty journals is an exaggeration!" complained Asta.

"A journal of notes?" questioned Agnes.

"You still keep those?" asked Baron with humor.

"I don't!"

"Yeah, she likes taking notes about the men she likes," Aghi responded, and proceeded to list things off as if he were going through a checklist. "Likes, dislikes, reactions, experiences, etc."

"Stop it!"

"That sounds like an interesting hobby," said Christin, grinning from ear to ear. "I'd like to see just want kind of content such journals possess."

"Stop teasing me!"

"Okay, enough, you all get one last shot before you're all in earshot," stated Baron, serious. "After that, you need to act polite."

Asta grabbed him by the sleeve and whined. "Baron, no."

Carina and Aghi started to whisper to one another, considering their options on what last to say to her before Kouen and his household members reached them, and Christin joined them shortly, adding to Asta's dismay.

"Is that any way to treat your princess?" demanded Agnes, arms folded over her ample chest and frowned at all of them.

Asta felt her heart melt. "Agnes."

"And you, you need to stop being a pushover," she shouted critically. "Start acting like an authority figure!"

"And you're in earshot," announced Baron.

Asta noticed that every person standing around her was quick to relax, seemingly nonchalant by the time Kouen joined them with his company. She counted six men at her husband's back and each one had more distinctive features than the last. She was quiet, blending in with her friends and the magicians, as she stared, stunned, at the two men with inhuman appearances with a hint of wariness. Those two were the tallest among a group of tall men, one shared features with a dragon, he was covered in scales and possessed sharp teeth with light colored eyes and the other had horns and wild hair.

Kouen introduced four of them as his retainers—the two giant ones with monster-like features, the small one with fluffy hair, and the other big one with the round face and blackened teeth. She realized immediately that all four of them did not look at her upon being introduced, they mistook Agnes for Kouen's wife, and she was too embarrassed to step forward when he called for her to do so. Baron had to shove her forward to get her to move and she scowled at him before she composed herself enough to greet them, embarrassed. She could see Christin, Carina, and Aghi shaking trying to hold in the laughter.

She wanted to shout at them all.

The other two men accompanying Kouen were aged military men with stern faces and intimidating presences. The two were titled Left General and Right General.

"Shuu Kokuhyou and Ri Seiryuu"—referring to the generals—"will remain in Corrin for the remainder of my campaign. En Shou and Shuu Kokuton will accompany me to Nohr. Ri Seishuu and Gaku Kin will return with you to Ione."

There was a collective word of agreement from all of them as the words he spoke sank in wondering if she heard him correctly when he said that she would be returning to Ione instead of continuing to Nohr with him. No mention of Egil either.

"Take whomever else you deem appropriate for the journey back, you leave tonight," he continued. "Kin, Seishuu, protect her as you would me."

The short, youthful one and the round-face man brought their hands together, speaking in unison, "Yes, my king."

Asta didn't chase him down, though she wanted to very much. She held all of that impulsive energy and stayed standing, her chest tightening. She understood that she messed everything up. There was nothing that she could've done to succeed (or maybe there was and she was too young to see the solution), but to warrant having to be sent back when she didn't want to leave his side until she knew that nothing bad would befall the people of Nohr and Lorah, that there would be no complications.

Instead, Asta waited for the perfect opportunity to speak with him alone. She followed his orders and chose the people she wanted to accompany her, afraid to ask Baron before he offered to accompany her but finding courage deep in the center of her belly to invite Agnes and her magicians. Agnes surprised her by agreeing before Asta could give her reason to do so.

"Why?" asked Asta, curious.

"Even if I found you disagreeable, it would not stop me from finding you interesting," said Agnes. "Not to mention, you have made me a promise and I swore I would not let you out of my sight until you brought home the princesses and avenged Nikias."

She smiled. "I see."

Hua was ordered to pack her things and she worked diligently with Carina's help, the guard believed it was too much work for one person to do alone. Asta tried to help them because she agreed from the start, but she was turned away. The women used her slow recovery as an excuse, leaving her to sit on the bed with her back against the headboard watching them arrange her things back into her trunk. She tried to read to pass the time, but she was distracted by Carina and Hua's camaraderie. Hua was laughing, which was surprising to Asta, who was used to seeing her more serious.

Kouen dropped in the check up on the progress, dismissing Hua and Carina. By then, the ship was ready to depart at any moment, all of her things were carried on board, Baron's items were carted off along with hers, and food and supplies were restocked. Werner assigned one of his commanders to join her, taking with her the small unit that she commanded, and they were all on board alongside Christin. Agnes and Baron were packing and the household members were outside waiting with Aghi and Carina, who joined them shortly.

Asta got out of bed upon seeing him enter. "I told you before that I don't want to go back."

"Your duty here is done," he told her.

"But I feel like I've failed. Egil wasn't even caught. He's out there somewhere."

"Remember that feeling well," he said, "so that you will never make the same mistakes again."

"But—"

"My men will handle it."

She reached out to touch his arm, but retracted. She lowered her face, looking to the ground between them, the space seeming larger than it truly was. "Then I want to go with you."

"Hurry to Ione and end the rebellion as quickly as you are able," he began, "and once you are done, and your people are happy, come back to my side. I will wait for you."

Asta imagined leaving Corrin under different circumstances seemingly long ago. The guilt slowly spreading from across her chest with each pump of her heart made her aware that she had plenty to learn in order to avoid making the same mistakes.

Worst of all, she became aware that she was afraid about returning to Ione. She felt safer at Kouen's side. Ione was where all of her enemies were and one nearly got away with killing her. He hadn't even been caught.

Asta sucked in a shuddering breath. She hated the feeling rushing through her bloodstream.

Failure. She hated it.

Kouen kissed her so deeply her knees weakened and left her to finish getting dressed.

"I will see you off," he said as he left.

Alone with her failure, she felt it start to bubble painfully inside of her. She didn't want to feel it again, so she tried to commit it to memory.

As Asta walked down the white halls of the castle atop the hill, she saw servants moving through the hallway, passing through the soldiers at her back, in a large opened hall where a pair of thrones sat, she watched as the Kyros and Theodora rose from the while marble to slip into a crowd of twirling strangers, and when she crossed the threshold of the entrance, she turned back in time to see Nikias bow low with a sparking crown atop his silver head before he faded into the air.

_"Bring them home."_

I will.


	38. (12) Mirror Image - Pt 4

**MIRROR IMAGE** | ILYA PETROV

\- **i **-

"Welcome aboard my ship, you traitorous cur," spat Louise Rousseau, the princess of Lorah, with her thin arms crossed over her chest armored. Ilya noticed that as she insulted, she looked directly at Melik. His poor reputation upset Ilya, greatly, but only for the potential that he possessed.

At the tender age of eight, she was a short girl with her chestnut hair styled in a boyish cut and wide hazel eyes. She traded her dresses for pants at an early age and abandoned her dolls to pick up a blade around the same time. She was not currently the most fearsome warrior in the Byzen Cluster, but the expectation was that she one day would be, until then, she was relied on for her military prowess as a strategist.

"Precious Louise," started Melik.

Louise raised her hand up to silence him. "It was made clear that the exchange would be between Ilya and myself, not useless philanderers."

"Oh, Louise! How you've grown!" Melik covered his face and pretended to weep, moving closer to Ilya to rest his face on his shoulder, but Ilya pushed him away. He hated this side of him, the useless prince.

"I don't associate with philanderers often, but I do promise that our cause is a good and just one."

"Siding with the Kou Empire is an affront against the Byzen Cluster," said Robert Durand, her second cousin and retainer. He followed her where she went, protected her and led the Lorahian army in her stead. He was her most faithful servant. Lived, breathed, and would die for the girl. As such, his response was expected and his opinion highly respected by the princess.

"You will bring about the destruction of our people," added Louise strongly. She drew the short blade hanging from her belt and pointed it at Ilya, a warning sign. "You will answer to this blade if your cause is not good and just. Do you still wish to speak?"

Ilya and Melik were stripped of their weapons and armors before they were allowed to board Louise's ship. Together they stood surrounded by Lorahian forces, all ready to attack at the drop of a hat. It made him anxious to stand in the center of them all in nothing but the simple black clothes that he wore underneath his armor, but the sacrifice needed to be made for the sake of peaceful negotiations.

"The truth of it is that as things stand, we have no hope in defeating the Kou Empire," stated Ilya.

"Is that any reason to side with them?" demanded Louise. "Our code is that if we cannot defeat them, we are to die trying. There is no joining them or persuading the rest to do the same. It is unseemly."

"And we are honor bound to our code, but—"

"Should we not band together then? Melik acquired strange power in that dungeon and that's worth something," interjected Louise, "but putting our weapons down, dishonoring our ancestors who fought hard to keep the peace in this land, and allowing ourselves to be conquered by an aggressive country like the Kou Empire and the likes of Ione? We might not win alone, but if we could extend an offer to the Reim Empire, we might stand a—"

"The Byzen Cluster fought hard to break free from the Reim Empire to be subjected to their rule once more," interrupted Melik, his voice calm as he moved to stand between Ilya and Louise. "If they are brought into the fray, we would only be asking to be conquered by them. It is an unfortunate thing to say, Louise, but we are trading one evil for another and committing to making the best out of a bad situation."

Ilya gratefully stood back, overwhelmed by the girl's fervent spirit. He wasn't quite as skilled as Melik in handling her type.

"Lorah will never bend their will to the Kou Empire," stated Louise. "If we cannot fight for our countries, we do not deserve to be called royalty."

Robert nodded loyally. "Indeed. What message do we send to the people in allowing ourselves to be ruled by others simply because they were bigger and stronger. We will be mocked for being weak."

"We lost our right to consider ourselves powerful when we let Hákon take control of Ione," stated Melik firmly. "If our kings and queens had not decided to bury the truth of Queen Aquila of Baryon's death the day the last Byzen Festival was held and we would have done what we had gone to do, we would not have had the Kou Empire on us so early on. We might have stood a chance against them if we truly banded together by becoming a nation as a whole and not a cluster of kingdoms run by six monarchs more interested in pursuing their useless hobbies or ambitions. Perhaps, that is why the Tzap Incident occurred and why we are suffering still so many generations later. We don't know. As such, it is irrelevant to bring up such fairytales to something that is happening now and is in dire need of attention."

Louise looked to Robert. Ilya understood that she was either at a loss for words or needed help in expanding her knowledge in something. He imagined it had to do with the Byzen Festival. She had not yet been born when all of that occurred. She wouldn't have been told about it either. However, Ilya recalled that Robert was there in the king's company, present during the outrage in the Great Hall of Io Castle.

"We are not here asking you to bend you will to the Kou Empire, we are asking you to enter into peaceful negotiations with them. Hear Prince Kouen out," finished Melik. "Listen to his queen's words."

Robert huffed. "That traitor. Her father started this mess and she intends to finish it. Determined little roaches those Io."

"Asta is the reason we are being given the option of negotiations. We can blame her father all we want, but she was his pawn as well and should not be burdened with any guilt you wish to instill in her," said Melik.

Louise gestured Robert closer and once he bent down, they deliberated in quick whispers.

"I will consider the option that you have brought me, but my answer is not yet definitive," stated Louise. "You are dismissed. Once I have made up my mind, you will be informed."

Ilya and Melik ambled through the crowd of soldiers blocking their path and safely returned to their ship.

"See? And you thought coming together would be a bad idea," commented Melik, grinning from ear-to-ear.

"Stop talking," grumbled Ilya. He planned to thank him for taking control of the conversation and steering it in the right direction, but if he complimented him at all, his head would likely grow so big it would explode. The last thing Ilya wanted was to give him anymore boasting material. He was annoying enough without it.

"We work, Ilya," he continued. "Our partnership is one of a kind. You sneak me into places where I would usually be turned away—"

"For good reason," he interjected.

"—and once you've got everyone talking, I'd sneak in my piece and win the room over. We should do this more often, Ilya. Clear your schedule. Make room for me."

Ilya grabbed Melik by the collar of his white shirt and pulled him forward, annoyed with his cheery face every time he looked at it. "Why didn't you fight me seriously before?"

Melik blinked. "Wait? What?"

"On the beach!" snapped Ilya, shaking him violently.

"Well, you weren't fighting me seriously either."

"What? I was!"

"Really? I could've sworn I've seen you stronger." Melik shrugged. "Meh, I must've been imagining things."

Ilya wanted to drown him.

"Prince Ilya, we've received word from Corrin!"

Ilya released Melik and snatched the message his attendant brought him. As soon as he read it, he looked up to Melik.

"What?" asked Melik.

"Prince Kouen is departing to Nohr."

"Oh, and we don't even have negotiations handled here."

"This is your fault!" snapped Ilya.

"My fault?" cried Melik, affronted. "What did I do?"

"You steered our ship in the wrong direction on purpose!"

"You shouldn't have let me steer the ship!"

"You said you—"

"Sheesh, Ilya, you have to stop listening to all of my requests, you're going to do something really stupid one day," Melik said haughtily.

Ilya pushed his sleeves up over his elbows and stalked towards the older prince. He was going to drown him.

"Ilya, what are you doing?"

He grabbed him by the kaftan. "How does a bath sound?"

Melik giggled. "Aren't you coming on a little strong?"

He punched him in the face.

"Prince Ilya! You'll kill him! He's delicate!"

**MIRROR IMAGE** | END


	39. (13) Riot Abyss - Pt 1

**THIRTEEN**: Riot Abyss

* * *

**Nohr**

_The Engineer_.

Nohr is a small kingdom of magic within the Byzen Cluster and it nurtures the growth of several magicians employed across the six kingdoms (and in some cases beyond). While magicians appear to be the standard in Nohr, the kingdom itself is not quite as famous for its magic users than it is for its architects and engineers.

The primary function of the Kingdom of Nohr is to design, construct, and distribute new technology for the betterment of the Cluster. New technology is a general term that can refer to buildings, weaponry, or ships. Nohrian engineers use influence provided by the other kingdoms to commit to experimental designs. As a kingdom, they hold a close relationship to the Hassahan kingdom in order to make full use of their merchants for distribution purposes.

* * *

**xl**: Hello everyone!

Firstly, I want to apologize for the false alarm a few days ago. I was evening out my numbers. It was bothering me, sorry. This chapter ends in 45. I like 5, so it's not going to annoy me as much.

I have more or less seem what school holds and I'm going to keep striving to post a chapter a month, even if that means posting at the end of the month. I'm doing my very best to move this arc along because I want to get to the nitty-gritty! I'm so, so excited.

The possibility of delays remains. This chapter was actually scheduled to be released last week, but last week, one of my friends passed away in a terrible way. I simply didn't have the heart to write after hearing the news, so the chapter didn't get done. I planned to put writing fanfiction in general on the back burner, as I expressed in my livejournal entry, but writing has helped me get over the grief. I apologize before hand if my personal feelings seep into my writing. I think there are parts in this chapter where it happens. I'm embarrassed to even bring this up really, sorry that I did.

Special shout-outs to these lovely individuals for reviewing the previous chapter: **Wanderstar**, **Renhoa0.0**, **De hearts 26**, **saber007**, **starrat**, **Vanilla-x-Ice**, **Guest 1**, and **Jennifer**. As always, I appreciate the time that you have taken in sharing your thoughts with me. You all make me feel all warm inside.

Enjoy.


	40. (13) Riot Abyss - Pt 2

**RIOT ABYSS **|

{ **i** }

Asta blamed her feeble presence for the awkward atmosphere that appeared to have boarded the ship with them to Ione. Without saying a word, Kouen's youngest retainer, Seishuu, did not appear the least bit pleased about her being his king's wife—a reaction that she should have committed to memory because it would likely never change. Yes, Asta admitted, she wasn't the ideal, especially with a beautiful woman like Agnes close by who seemed to ooze all the feminine qualities expected of a woman in the future position of queen. Asta, by comparison, was smaller and more child-like, a princess through and through, not a queen, never an empress.

She got nowhere with comparing herself to Agnes. The magician was exceptionally beautiful and vastly more womanly than any woman Asta had ever encountered in her life time, but Asta was Kouen's wife and they were getting along swimmingly. In fact, they were so perfectly stable that all of his concubines, present and future, would feel their positions being threatened and she hoped they did quake in their dainty clothes and seethe that a tiny princess like her was charming their king. He was, after all, satisfied with her.

Why would he have any need of them?

Oh yes. Yes, he was. Indeed. She relished the thought like a morsel of invaluable information, feeling incredibly proud of the feat, especially because it was about a man like Kouen, who was practically unreadable.

Asta felt someone pinch the skin under her arm and twist. She cried out, snapping out of her rapid thoughts, and jerked around to see Carina with an innocent look. There was nobody else around her to blame for the pinch, only her.

"What was that for?" demanded Asta heatedly.

"You were laughing by yourself," said Carina, and jabbed her thumb in Seishuu's direction. "You're creeping that kid out."

"I'm no kid!" shouted Seishuu.

Carina laughed heartily. "You certainly look like a kid."

"If anyone looks like a kid, it's her!" he continued, pointing at Asta.

"I'm going to be eighteen in a few weeks!"

"I'm older," Seishuu argued.

He caught Christin's eye as she walked across the deck and she gravitated towards him as if they were magnetized. She poked his cheeks with both of her hands and gave a hearty laugh. "You're so cute and fluffy!"

"I'm not—"

Christin wrapped her arm around his neck and held him in a deadlock as she mussed with his light-colored hair. He struggled to get away from her, but she surprised them all with her iron grip. After a moment, Carina and Asta decided to take Seishuu away from Christin before she smothered him to death.

Hua brought Seishuu water to drink as Carina tried her best to scold Christin, who turned out to be drunk. She wandered over from the other side of the deck where Gaku, Agnes, and Baron had been swindled into a game of cards and tempted by strong alcohol by Commander Inga Eld of the Ionian army. Judging by the loud laughter and shouting drifting from that side, they were all having a very good time.

Carina managed to send Christin on her way. The youthful woman swayed with the ship and giggled in amusement, twirling her wand and making bubbles in animal shapes as she hummed her way to the cabin she would share with Agnes, Carina, and Hua for the duration of the trip.

Asta watched tiny bear heads and rabbit shapes float above the ship, carried higher by the winds if they were not strong enough to pop them to join the longer shapes of giraffes and gorillas. The bubbles stopped when Christin was safely inside of the cabin.

"Are you not a magic user, yourself, my queen?" asked Seishuu, holding the ceramic cup Hua gave him on his lap. He sat atop a crate of supplies among others tethered on deck with ropes.

"My queen?" she queried, seated next to him with enough space between them to fit another.

"You are my king's wife," he responded, frowning. "Do you hate the title?"

"No, I only thought that I made a poor impression on you and your fellow household vessels," she answered.

"You weren't anything like our projected expectations," he explained. "Yun described you as the most beautiful woman of Ione and we had never seen Ionian women before, though we were told many were fair skinned with light hair...and tall."

She laughed. "I suppose with a dignified man like Kouen, one would expect a woman that looks a bit, or rather, a lot like Agnes. She suits him better. Or someone graceful, silent, and beautiful. However, he was stuck with me instead."

"He doesn't hate you. If he hates someone or something, you can tell. In fact, we've never seen our prince so interested in a woman before, _but _that doesn't mean you're actually fit to be his wife."

"You certainly do know how to crush a young maiden's dreams." she said, head hung low. "I do promise that if I'm not suitable, however, I will become suitable. I won't become a burden on Kouen, I refuse to be. So, as crushed as I feel that you don't find me suitable, I'm not going anywhere and I can't get any worse."

Seishuu laughed at her. "I will admit, you're not all that plain up close."

"It's the freckles," she said, nodding. "They look strange from afar."

"Probably."

"Should you be hitting on your king's wife?" chimed Carina.

"I wasn't hitting on her!"

Asta laughed.

"Christin will get jealous, Seishuu. She likes you so much, too. She told me."

"She does not like me, all she is is a drunk and—"

There was a high pitched scream from inside the cabin that came closer and closer when Christin shot out of the front door seconds before she was struck down by a fireball. The clothes burnt through and her pale skin charred, struggling forward she continued trying to escape as an unknown magician in black robes exited with a smug look on his face.

Asta was quick on her feet, her legs were already moving her to Christin's side, but Seishuu and Carina blocked her path.

"Stay behind us, your majesty."

"Christin!" shouted Agnes, stopping several feet short of the fallen magician. Her eyes narrowing at the blond man, tall with a strong jaw and a thick mustache above a victorious smile. "Heinrich!"

Baron drew his blade and at his side, the large, Gaku too prepared to attack. Agnes held out her arm to stop them from making any impulsive moves.

"Where is Elsa?"

The wind picked up, above their heads the sails filled with it and the ship rocked as the waves responded violently. Asta grabbed onto the crates behind her to steady herself when she saw the shadow of an arm wrap around her neck. As the surprised yelp left her lips, she watched as a torrent of powerful wind struck Agnes square in the stomach charting her off the boat. Agnes righted herself midair and swept down to attack Elsa, but upon realizing the situation stopped.

Asta's body hit something hard and before she could process the fact that she had been captured, the pointed end of a blade near her eye silenced her.

Baron, Gaku, Carina, Seishuu, and the rest of the soldiers present in the deck froze in their tracks. Making a move would be too risky for them because if they did, her capturer wouldn't hesitate in ending her life. Was that not the purpose of this surprise attack?

They were halfway to Ione, finally comfortable in the temporary setting, and doing ordinary things to pass the time. It was the perfect time to strike because their guards were down. The ship was supposed to be safe. Gaku and Seishuu had searched it thoroughly. Everyone trusted them. This wasn't their oversight and yet, she could see it in their expressions that they took full responsibility for it.

Asta looked up to see Egil's son, Stigr, his face hardened. He wouldn't care about killing her. She saw it in his eyes that she was probably an obstacle to the world of peace that Freja must have promised them.

Wait.

They didn't want her alive.

He messed up. He hesitated. Any other person would have killed her on the spot if not wounded her badly enough. He was contemplating it now, seeing himself surrounded...but knowing they had so few numbers...

No.

"Apprehend the Ionian army unit!" she ordered, and as the Kou Empire soldiers turned their swords and spears towards the Ionian unit under Commander Eld, all chaos broke loose.

Asta felt the knife scratch her cheek as Carina and Seishuu lunged forward with their respective weapons on hand. Carina knocked the weapon from the boy behind her and Seishuu pierced him through the eye with his spear. The agonizing boy screamed into the dark night as he fell back and Seishuu put him out of his misery quickly as Asta scrambled to her feet. Carina took her by the wrist and pulled her closer to her, surveying their surroundings as the Kou Empire soldiers and Ionian warriors battled, the traitors quick to show their true colors, eager to introduce her to death for the good of their country.

It was all a blur of steel and blood, a blend of screams of pain and roars of determination, and there were bodies on the floor, the dying and the dead. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest, thumping so hard she felt it in her head, and her breaths quickened. She sensed the swell of panic in the pit of her stomach expand to the size of a ball and her body trembled as if it were anticipating the anxiety bubble to burst. It would be so simple of her to give into the panic and allow it to cripple her, but she stood her ground. Her enemies took advantage of all the areas that she lacked and she couldn't allow that if she knew what those areas were.

However, her first instinct was not to fight. She thought to access the situation as she had before when Stigr held her captive. She tried to see through the flurry of battle, searching for even the slightest notion of an answer. Her legs shook underneath the weight of her body standing protected by those she trusted the most against rebel Ionian soldiers and the two magicians that defected from Agnes' small magician army. She looked for Egil, but in her search for him, she noticed that there were Ionian soldiers fighting on her side. She didn't trust them completely. It could all be a ploy to get closer to her all over again. She didn't want to get hurt. Not like the last time.

Not like it almost happened again this time.

For several long terrible minutes, Asta did not understand the chaos, only that it raged all around her with the force of a powerful storm. She kept track of those in her immediate surroundings, Carina and Seishuu with their swords out and Hua, who literally fought her way to her, holding onto her hand firmly, guiding her further and further away from the danger. She tried searching for Agnes, but she was lost in the sky of bursting light. Baron, Gaku, and Aghi weren't visible either. Christin was on the floor somewhere, wounded badly.

Her heart was in her throat. The anxiety in her building into a terrible attack on her person, thinning her breaths, making her chest ache in pain. She was afraid, terrified of seeing those around her fall because if they did, what protection would she have left.

Asta took another tentative step back and hit something soft, losing her balance as she tripped over it, dragging Hua down on top of her. Both of them yelped, but the sound was drowned out by the clash of steel.

Hua scrambled off her apologetically and reached over to pick her up when Asta realized she tripped over a butchered man, a large pool of blood underneath him from the stab wounds across his torso. As she stared at his pale, bloated face frozen in death, he suddenly opened his eyes.

"_Behind you._"

Hua's tight grip loosened, her body crumpled in pain beside Asta's legs, blood blooming over her shoulder, staining her pale robes red. Asta whirled around, staring up in horror at Egil Vång as he withdrew the sword he used to stab Hua. She searched the chaos for Seishuu and Carina, but they were nowhere in sight and as she did, Egil grabbed a fistful of her hair. He forced her back on her feet and she saw him pull the sword back to thrust it in her. In a panic, she caught the blade inches from her stomach hard, the metal biting into her skin, the blood flowing from her palms.

Egil laughed. "You have a surprising grip for a little girl, but that won't be enough to stop me."

It wasn't.

He pushed the sword through her grip, cutting her hands to the point the searing pain was so strong that she felt her hold weaken and tears fall from her eyes.

Egil jerked back, releasing her, moving away from the trajectory of a sword thrust in his direction and she fell back as Carina pursued the blacksmith with her sword. Asta lifted her eyes and saw Aghi making his way through a crowd of Kou Empire soldiers creating a protective shield around her. She saw Carina and Egil engaged in battle for a short instant before they were obscured from view with all the moving warring bodies.

Asta went straight for Hua, picking her up, but hurting her wounded hands as she did. Hua received a stab through the shoulder, she was bleeding profusely, but she was not dead. Hua was trying to stop the bleeding by pushing as much of the loose fabric of her clothes over the wound.

Aghi reached Asta and took her hands as soon as he saw them, but they said nothing as the ship started to rock violently. They struggled to stay put, their bodies being jerked left and right, same as others, only few managed to remain standing and continued to fight. Many took advantage of the violent rocking, of the way the ocean seemed to rise along the sides of the ship that it sloshed on deck, sweeping through the corpses and immobile soldiers.

Asta, Aghi, and Hua were soaked to the bone, a wave of water falling over them as the ship dipped low and as it rose back, it left them. The three shivered violently huddled together trying to help one another with their wounds, but with ensuring bedlam, they could do little but rip apart pieces of their clothes to staunch the bleeding of their more precarious cuts.

Aghi kept his sword out, standing protectively over Asta and Hua, as the sea continued to rock the ship, the harsh winds blowing hard against the sails likely guiding them off course. There were moments where Asta couldn't determine what was happening. What side was winning? Theirs or the enemies? But she watched nonetheless worried and anxious about the lives of those that were fighting to defend her.

There shielded by Hua's slim body, her shoulder bleeding through the soft fabrics of her robes, and protected by Aghi, seeing further ahead to the wall of Kou Empire soldiers successfully holding off the traitors among the Ionian soldiers, Asta felt incredibly pitiful. The fact that she continued to be a liability in the midst of chaos and the battlefield was evident more and more to her since she left Ione. She felt ashamed that she had to rely on so many to protect her, truly, but realized that she did this in many aspects of her life. The thought made her very confused.

Asta shuddered as the spray of water hit her cheek, her teeth clattering, heart pounding wildling in her chest, every anxious breath a strain on her lungs, and she lifted her head to the black, starless sky, brightening every so often as a zap of lightning streaked across to be shot down by a ball of fire or of blue lightning, the magic bursting into a million heated sparks that rained down upon the ship sizzling through the wood. She breathed in deeply, the freezing air stinging, and a droplet of water fell in her right eye, forcing it closed instinctively, followed by large ones that turned into a sheet of rain that drowned out the sound of clashing swords.

Suddenly, the battle was done.

Agnes, battle-worn and exhausted, stumbled her way to Asta hauling Christin on her back and collapsed before Aghi could take the smaller magician from her. There were burn wounds and thin cuts all over her body. She breathed slightly erratically as Asta crawled over, reaching her side, fearing that she might have been hurt a lot worse, but she wasn't. Feebly, Agnes opened her eyes and looked in Asta's direction before losing consciousness after exhaling deeply.

There were Kou soldiers milling through the bodies, gathering survivors from the enemy side for a quick execution (she assumed), and patching up their wounded as the rain continued to fall heavily, a cold rush on their backs as mist surrounded the deck.

Carina and Seishuu reappeared before her a few minutes before Gaku made his way across the ship with Baron. Commander Eld walked behind them stony-faced, carrying in her hand a severed head dripping fresh blood. Asta slipped on her bloodied hand when she realized the head belonged to Egil and almost fell back complete scrambling away, but Carina reached her. She pulled her up on her feet as her chest hammered loudly despite the loud rainfall.

A terse silence passed as Inga dropped her trophy on the wooden flood between them, reached for her sword (and the others around her took hold of their own, ready for a quick draw) to toss over the railing onto the sea with a silent splash. She lowered her head, appearing deeply shamed.

"My soldiers have acted unforgivably, for that you have my deepest apologies," said Inga Eld, the giant, broad-shouldered woman. "They are a poor reflection of my leadership, as such, if it can be considered any compensation for your fright or the lives of your fallen, take my life."

Asta looked to the people around her, but stop herself immediately, returning her eyes to the bowing woman. Even speaking of her soldiers' crime appeared to have a visibly effect on her, her lips were drawn in a tight line, her hands fisted and knuckles blanched, and the tension in her body uncomfortable (even to look at). There was no mistake about the fact that she was so ashamed of her soldiers that she wanted to be killed for their actions.

Someone tried to kill the commander, there was a cut on her neck bleeding through a handkerchief affixed to staunch the bleeding. She possessed stab wounds in three areas of her torso. There were too many obvious signs on her that showed that Inga had been a target as well, to be killed by her soldiers, a symbol of betrayal, but she survived through the thick of it and brought Asta back her enemy's head. She avenged her father.

A small voice in the back of her head told her that it could all be a trick. Her enemies were preying on her weakness.

Letting her be executed for the crimes of her soldiers meant that if she was innocent, Asta wasted one person's loyalty.

Shuddering from the cold, Asta stepped forward to Inga and placed her hand on one of her shoulders. "You will not die today."

If she was a traitor as well, if this was all a joke, she knew that none of those standing around her watching the scene vigilantly would allow her the opportunity or time to kill her.

{ **ii** }

Hua woke Asta when they were minutes from arriving. Asta rose from the wooden chair she sat on before she had fallen asleep half-slumped against Agnes' bed the previous night after Baron ensure her that there was nothing grave about her wounds. Christin was up the morning following, aching to fight only to be severely disappointed by the fact that everyone that needed defeated had been beaten. Seishuu laughed at her for it, but she zapped him with a spell that had him chasing her through the ship with his sword out swearing revenge.

They arrived a whole two days later than anticipated because of the battle and the ship's need for quick repairs that Christin had made quick work out of and the removal of the bodies took its fair share of time, they were all indiscriminately tossed down into the cargo area below deck to be returned home without word of their treason. Egil and Stigr would be returned to his widow Ylva. Asta ordered for her and the rest of her children, as well as the extended family to be placed under arrest until it could be determined that none of them were supporting Freja by aiding her cause. A small group of soldiers was prepared to complete her order upon disembarking.

Asta exited the cabin and approached the railing as soon as she caught sight of the row of ships anchored around the Öman Province. Carina and Aghi joined her, both flanking her and playfully bumping shoulders with her, looking towards the fast approaching island they called home with excitement lighting their expressions. Seeing the exhilaration on both of their faces made her consider that maybe she was feeling a bit queasy, not for the uneasiness of what she would face (after all she had gone through) but because she missed Ione.

This was her home.

How long had it been since she last saw it? Over a month, maybe two, she supposed given that she was now counting the days before her eighteenth birthday when there had been many weeks in between the day she departed that it had been the furthest thing from her mind. She had been so miserable, feeling saddled in her marriage with Kouen and full of feelings for Johan, confused too about what use she would be for the people of Ione. She could think of nothing more than sacrificing her happiness by accepting the fate and mess her father had caused to ensure that her country was protected, never thinking that her actions would greatly upset the noble Ionian House to the point that two of its seated members were dead, one had been stripped of her position, and there were likely more enemies waiting for their time to strike, rearing the country into a civil war with the Kou Empire to blame.

Ione wasn't at all hers, not with Freja trying to start some sort of revolution, and Asta made no expectations of her kingdom other than likening it to a nest of sleeping vipers. She would need to be prepared. As she solidified the thought in her mind, her hands stung in remembrance of the sword Egil tried to use to kill her. The magician that healed her said that if she had clutched onto the sword any harder, she would've ended up without fingers.

She was advised not to take such risks and at the moment the magician had finished saying those words, she asked, "What should I have done? Allowed him to kill me?" She apologized immediately for seeming snappish, but she stood by her question.

Apologetically, the magician had told her, "Waited. There will always be someone around to protect you."

Asta supposed there would be. Carina had swooped in just in time to fend Egil off, pushing him as far away from her before Inga spotted him in the crowd and with a deafening roar (as Carina liked to tell the story) she sprang forward with her blade. Inga fought him until she killed him, shamming him for his unsightly actions.

Inga told her that he died proclaiming Freja as the true queen of Ione.

How many others had she tempted to her side? How many believed that she was the true queen of Ione?

Asta wanted to know.

The ship anchored in the Öman Province surrounded by Caj's many cargo ships and they disembarked under the cover of night to heavy Kou Empire presence. There were soldiers everywhere, on the docks and beyond the sandy stretch of land that made up the beach, but at the forefront waiting with a servant to her right stood Cilla Strand with her brilliant green eyes shining with the glow of torchlights spaced evenly along the docks. She wore a cloak that covered her head to toe, the hood pulled on to hide her jet-black hair.

She bowed deeply, lowering her head. "Greetings, my princess, how were your travels?"

"Good," said Asta flatly, standing in front of Baron, Christin, Seishuu, and Carina. Behind them, giant Gaku with his blackened teeth, Aghi and the healing scar across his cheek, and Inga with her shadowed face. The rest of the small force given to her were still pouring out of the ship, ordered to join them as soon as they were able once horses were provided for them. She suspected that was Cilla's role. She ruled the affluent province of merchants in the country and never suffered the strain of the kingdom's debt.

Cilla's smile wavered a bit, but she gestured Asta forward to the horses she brought for her group. There were only ten, the reins held by Kou soldiers mounted on their own, who relinquished them to whoever approached them from her side. Asta was escorted back to her castle where accommodations had been made for her visitors. Cilla accompanied her as far as the main road, doubling back to ride through Astoria back to her province.

It started to rain as they reached the gate of Io Castle, though there were patches of mud and wet grass along their ride to suggest Ione had been battered by storms as well as Corrin. They were certainly in the season for them.

Asta admitted to feeling a little embarrassed about seeing Bo again considering the last she saw of her caretaker she had been angry with her for wanting to leave with Kouen even though Bo had wanted her to charm the prince. She hoped that it'd be enough for her to learn that she and Kouen were getting along swimmingly and that Bo would forgive her.

Koumei greeted her with a bow and somewhat of a sleepy look. She doubted he had the opportunity to sleep in days given the dark circles under his eyes and she could see tiny golden birds, same as those around Kouen, fluttering a little blue above the fan he kept on his belt.

"It is good to see you safely home, sister," he said politely, raising his head to look at her. "If you would not mind accompanying me for a cup of tea, there are things in need of discussing." He looked to the strangers around her. "Accommodations have been made for your guest. However, I must inform your Castle Guard that their lodgings have been moved to the outside barracks."

"What?" questioned Asta, sounding upset. "Why?"

"It is only a precaution. For your safety."

"Don't worry about it," said Carina. Aghi nodding in agreement. "We used to sleep there as recruits, 's not as bad as they make it sound."

Christin beamed with excitement over the prospect of exploring the castle when Seishuu mentioned that she and Agnes were employed and loyal to the Corrinean crown before becoming strays. Their accommodations were switched faster than Christin could shoot him an appalled look. Asta promised to vouch for them when Christin clung to her arm and refused to let go. Christin left, but not without jabbing Seishuu's side with the end of her staff as she went, dragging her feet the entire way out the gate, following Carina and Aghi, who tried their best to make her feel better.

Baron was taken away to rest in one of the guest rooms in the western wing of the castle.

Asta followed Koumei to her mother's library. She was shocked to be in it, surprised mainly by the state of disarray that she found it with books stacked horizontally on shelves or on the floor, no longer in the same order that she recalled them being when she last visited. There were even small stacks up the staircase that led up into the second landing where there were maps, finished and unfinished, sitting underneath piles of more dusty tomes, cups filled with quills and emptied ink bottles and scrolls of parchment being scribbled on presently atop the heavy table. A single candelabra with three candles burned down to the end of their wax bars were lighting the area weakly, flickering shadows against the shelved walls.

"Sorry about the mess," he said, pulling out the seat at one end of the table for her. He waited for her to sit before sinking down into the nearest chair. "As you are aware, Ione is in a sorry state, teetering between a civil conflict or prospective peace. Freja has gathered a large following with the help of Bengt and a few noble connections. Apart from Kay Åkerman, who was executed recently, I have reason to suspect the whole Ionian House of treason."

"Why did you ask Cilla to expect me at the docks this late at night if you suspect the entire House?" asked Asta.

"Because I suspect her the most, it is better for me to keep her reasonably close than far away enough that she could get away with whatever dealings she's working underground," he responded, serious. "Be wary of her."

With that point across, Koumei brought her up to speed with the situation in Ione. It was as he said. The country was in a sorry, indecisive state. One part appeared to lean towards accepting the change the Kou Empire would be and living in peace while another part believed that as descendants of a warrior, conquering tribe, the should fight to keep what they conquered. Freja called Asta's marriage into the Kou Empire a stain on their powerful ancestry. She suspected she would have made a slogan of "_We conquer! We are not conquered!_"

"We must play to your strengths," said Koumei once the conversation finished and she planned to go to her bedroom, "and what you can offer the people as their future queen. Do the same as your aunt, rally Ione. Your voice will reach father and more than hers could ever."

She was afraid of trying it because she hardly felt worthy, but she supposed she understood why Koumei asked her to mimic her aunt's actions in rallying the people. It would make her presence known. She would be active in the fight to settle the chaos that her aunt sent in motion. If it worked, if somehow she managed to make herself be as important as she needed to be, she stop a war from happening. Doing this would solidify her alliance to the Kou Empire as well. She needed to consider it too.

Asta nodded and bid Koumei goodnight, but he did not look as though he would go back to sleep when he returned back to the library. There was more left to do, but he wanted to be sure that she rested after she told him all about her endeavor on the ship.

Fu waited in her bedroom to help her into a warm bath. She mentioned being happy to have her back, admitting that the castle was fairly boring without her running around. She appreciated the words, thanked her for them. She was dressed, her hair combed and braided down her back. She got underneath the covers, hating the wide spacious bed without Kouen, having grown too used to his presence, and closed her eyes, uneasy about Bo's absence. She hoped she wasn't too mad when she finally did see her. She wished she knew how things were going on Kouen's end, but figured a lot smoother than the mess that resulted from her involvement in Corrin.

The familiar smell of her sheets, freshly changed, was unfamiliar to her, but she slept comfortably in her bed and her sleep was dreamless.

{ **iii** }

Bo noisily parted the drapes of her room as Asta's ten attendants, now a complete number with Hua's return, fluttered around the room making arrangements for the morning, though it wasn't their racket that woke Asta that morning. She was startled when Joa pounced on her chest, sitting comfortably atop her, the large orange tabby stared down at her face with large brilliant green eyes. She pushed him off her and rolled on her side, but he started to meow annoyingly when Bo entered with a hint of a flourish to start her noise.

By the time Fu and another girl opened the heavy curtains of the canopy, tying them to the right posts with a gold rope, the wooden bath tub was sitting atop a stretch of red carpet and several attendants were taking turns filling it with boiling water they carried with them from outside. Hua was speaking animatedly to another attendant as they unpacked her things from the trunks (carried over from the ship) placed in front of the entrance to her boudoir.

Once the tub was filled and the water was left to cool down to the right temperature, Asta was brought breakfast, which she munched on sleepily. She wasn't all that hungry as she waited for Bo to say something to her, worried that her caretaker had not even spared her a glance though Asta had done nothing but looked towards her longingly. She would take any punishment at that point—more studying, lessons in manners, or a stern talking to—all she wanted was for Bo to say something, anything, no matter how small or insignificant.

"I do hope you did not dare eat in such a sloppy manner in front of your husband," said Bo harshly, shooting Asta an unpleasant glare.

"We hardly ate together," she shot back, undeterred by the insult. This was normal. She almost exhaled with relief when Bo turned away to reprimand one of her girl's after having caught her staring wistfully at the guard outside the door.

Once the chores were done, Bo shooed the ten attendants out of the room, all of them scheduled to work on chores outside, and she held the door open as the last of the girls skirted out carrying mounds of dirty clothes they would be taking to wash. Asta's breakfast tray was taken since she had finished eating and she was standing next to the tub, touching the water. It was still too hot for her to get in. The steam rose up from the surface in a hazy gray.

"So," started Bo, walking across the room to stand in front of her, her bony arms folded over her chest, "what do you have to report?"

"I don't regret going," said Asta. "It was a horribly frightening trip that put me in more dangerous situations than I have probably been in my entire lifetime. I watched people die, I watched people be hurt, I saw war in all of its savage colors, and I was almost killed three times. I understand why you were so adamant about letting me go and I thank you for your worry, Lady Bo, but in recognizing how weak I have been, how lazy, and the amount of room left for me to grow, I want to be a leader capable of running the Byzen Cluster under the Kou Empire's banner. However, there is so much left for me to learn and do to accomplish this. I promise to listen to you next time, Lady Bo."

Bo's hardened expression soften and she walked towards Asta with her arms outstretched, pulling her into a sudden hug that left Asta blinking with confusion. "You will have much to do under the young prince's tutelage," she said, drawing back to stare at Asta's freckled face. "Now, Hua tells me that our king is positively smitten with you."

Asta's face broke into a cheesy smile, her cheeks turning pink. "I wouldn't say smitten, but we are getting along well enough that we could kiss the threat of a concubines goodbye."

"Well, as you know, it is a custom for the heir—"

"Goodbye!" interrupted Asta, speaking with determined flair. She used to be okay with the tradition, but that was before she liked Kouen. She wouldn't share him with anyone. She simply wouldn't be okay with it. "Kouen is satisfied with me. I have defeated them all. He is all mine."

Bo offered her a rare smile. "You should not celebrate just yet, not until you've provided him an heir. Given the amount of activity"—Asta horrified wondered how much Hua knew—"should we assume that you are expecting?"

Asta frowned, setting Bo up for a joke, for old time's sake. She patted her flat stomach. "How does one know?"

"Normally, the bleeding stops every moon."

"What?"

"Your moon blood."

"The moon bleeds?" she questioned, purposely disturbed.

Bo stared at her horrified before her face twisted into anger. "I am not here for one of your little jokes!"

Asta laughed, but apologized for trying.

"There are magical methods to determine this," said Bo, scowling. "If you are ever curious."

She hesitated. It rose in her quite suddenly, but faded as she uttered a response, "I am curious, I admit."

It would be too early to tell if she was, somehow, she felt very aware of that, but she couldn't be sure. She didn't know if she'd be relieved by it or scared about it. If she was losing her mind, she believed the latter reaction would be more along the vein of what her emotions would be like.

"I'll have something arranged for you," said Bo. "I am curious too, thought it might be too early to know."

"But I think I would like to wait for children," said Asta, saying this with a little more confidence. "I understand the importance of my duty, but I think it might be too early."

"It's never too early! You'd best hope all of your sexual activity did produce results or he'll be putting babies in concubines instead and I will absolutely not tolerate such a thing!"

She wished she could protest and confidently say that he wouldn't do that, but something like that was viewed as normal. He probably wouldn't think twice about it, even if he was content with her, he did have to think about his own situation.

Asta didn't answer her. She was too embarrassed to after Lady Bo said "sexual activity" and resumed to bathe quietly. Overall, she determined that her mind was filled with silly thoughts and while she appreciated the slight distraction of them, they weren't enough to shield her from remembering the experiences that bore down on her like the cold steel biting into her palms.

Unconsciously, she stared down at her open hands, watched the water run across her life line in a thin rivulet like a drying river. She sat watching them, recalling the sting of the blade as it sank in and the blood, warm and cold—a contradiction and truth—seeping from between. The helpless struggle. The loud pounding in her head. The fright taking possession of her, survival instinct kicking in.

She didn't want to die.

She also didn't want to feel fear or weakness.

"_Do something._"

Asta jolted as the voice faded and turned in the tub, drawing Bo's critical eye to her. Her heart raced a little.

"Is something wrong?" asked Bo.

She looked around without answering the question, ensuring that there was nobody present, and settled back into a relaxed position with her back against the wooden tub. She breathed out, finally responding, "No, nothing."

Asta struggled with the idea that what she was going through was a gift like Kouen did. Gifts were usually welcomed. They were nice things that people wanted, not a strange power that let people see and hear the dead. She felt insane. Afraid, mostly. As if one day, her whole mind would leave her and she would be like her mother because her mother heard things. Things that weren't there. She did things. Things she didn't mean to do. She hurt people. People that she loved and later begged for forgiveness. There were memories in Asta's mind about her mother that saddened her.

The truth was all of it saddened her.

"That did not seem like nothing," said Bo. "You've also been staring at your hands. Is that where you were hurt?"

"Yes," she replied slowly. "I caught the sword Egil tried to use against me. It cut into my palms, deep. There was blood everywhere. There were dead people everywhere. I realize that I have been hurt. More than once. Brutally. I've ordered people dead." She paused a moment, unable to track the direction she wanted to steer the conversation into, and shuddered in the cooling water. "I understand why people say that I'm naïve. I get it now. I was bothered by it before, but it was a childish thing of me to be annoyed by a fact. I am naïve. I accept it fully. I don't know what I'm doing, but I have a willingness to learn and I want to learn quick. I don't want to be naïve. I don't want to be weak. I don't want to be scared. I don't want to be a burden."

"Your eyes have been opened. The world is cruel." Bo approached the tub. "However, even with all that you must be feeling, know that you must be doing something right if you've left such a good impression on my king."

"Hua is exaggerating."

"One would think, yes, but you must understand what it means for my king to ask that you be returned to him as soon as this uprising is squashed," said Bo.

Asta was a little insulted by the way Bo chose to phrase that, but paid it no mind as she leaned her cheek against the edge of the tub. She sighed, wishing she was with Kouen.

"Have you set aside your old feelings?" asked Bo, moving away to pick up some of Asta's clothes to fold into neater stacks than the attendants had left them.

She raised her face, searching her caretaker's expression for meaning. "What?"

"Have you forgotten Johan Ek?"

Asta turned towards the water's surface.

No.

She thought of him from time to time. Thinking of him now filled her with immense guilt. How easily it seemed to others that she had forgotten him. Feeling anything for Kouen suddenly felt wrong to her and she grew ashamed by her longing for her husband.

Bo interpreted the silence and pursed her lips into a thin line, not at all pleased by this. She resumed folding as Asta continued to say nothing, staring off quietly into a stone wall. The gnawing in her chest made tears spring in her eyes and she listened quietly as the droplets slid from her cheeks to drip into the water casting ripples around her.

A year had passed since Johan's death when Kouen became her husband, in more than name alone. The death had been fresh in her mind, but the initial shock and the weeks of continuous sadness, of fitful sleep and long nights of no sleep, of little to no hunger and sudden spurts of it—Bo reprimanding all of her actions in grief—were gone. She had never asked for a life without Johan, she didn't want to know one, but she had to adapt.

Somehow, to her shock, she had.

However, she had not missed him less. She had dreamt of seeing him, of his death being a lie, and had wished to feel his lips pressed against hers. The memory of his mouth on hers appeared in her mind as her tears trickled into the water, blending in with the soapy surface, and she closed her eyes in a shy attempt to recall what it felt like to be kissed by Johan. As she pictured him, handsome with his dirty blond hair messily swept across one side, leaving the other bare and covered in runes tattooed in blue ink to her curious fingers that traced the lovely symbols, as he leaned forward seated beside her on the edge of her feathered bed. His body was leaner, twice as big as her and masculine, and he was tall, so he had to lean quite a bit, especially when she playfully reclined back on her elbows, eager to feel his body pressed against hers. She had always been willing if he had ever asked, but he had never touched her more than a simple caress of her face, whispering when he had sensed her eagerness to do more that she should let him treasure her.

"When we are married," he had said once, his lips hovering above hers and his slate-colored eyes staring deep into hers, "I will make you mine. Only then because I will have some guarantee that you can never be taken from me."

She had been satisfied with kissing. She had imagined making love with Johan as well as she could with what little information of the act she had, gathered from the people around her. Vilhelm had been a wealth of information, rumored among he whispered gossip around the castle to be good at whatever it was he did, but she had no use for his perspective as she had no intention or desire of bedding woman. She had promised, however, if she ever found herself in such a situation, she would confer to his advice. Carina had expressed to her that she had heard it hurt and when Asta had asked if she'd done it, she nodded and admitted that she regretted it, which made Asta wonder if she would regret doing it with Johan. Brita had offered her the knowledge that Asta desired most. She had told her that it was a wonderful act if done with someone one loved, but had told her not to pursue Johan because her mother had forbidden it.

Asta had thought about doing it with Johan more and more after she had seen him outside underneath the scorching sun with his shirt tied around his waist and his pale lean muscular body glistening with sweat. She had recalled the surge of heat that pooled between her legs.

She didn't know it at the time, but that was her first encounter with desire. Sometimes she had felt it when their kisses were long and their limbs were tangled with one another's underneath a canopy of trees, her hair loosening from her braid and his long fingers threading through it as his tongue worked skillfully inside her mouth.

As the memories slowly seeped through her body, Kouen invaded her mind, replacing all thoughts of Johan. Her heart seized as she remembered the way his mouth felt kissing down the length of her body and his tongue between her legs. With her cheeks bright red and hot, Asta sank down, submerging herself completely in the water. She needed to cool down.

Bo helped her out of the tub and wrapped a large soft towel around her body. She went to sit on the foot of her bed, the guilt ever present in her, torn between feeling bad for having feelings for Kouen and for not thinking enough about Johan.

"I like Prince Kouen," said Asta aloud. Bo stopped her tinkering about the room to acknowledge her confession. "I admire him. I'm attracted to him. I imagine that I will fall in love with him and it saddens me that the reality of my situation dictates that the lack of reciprocation is more prevalent than the hopeful alternative. I say that I don't mind it and I don't know, but the guarantee is that I will one day." She paused to take a breath. "With Johan it was different. It was mutual with time. So there are lingering feelings of regret concerning him, but I don't view Kouen as a replacement. He isn't Johan. He is who he is and I like him for it."

Bo smiled lightly. "I do hope for the very best for you, Asta, from the bottom of my heart. I doubt that his majesty would fail to see how special you truly are, even if you lack proper training and behave like a buffoon with your Castle Guard. They are endearing qualities, I suppose. Truly, I wonder sometimes what I even see in you."

"You didn't have to twist the knife," murmured Asta, hurt.

"Yes, but I don't need this going to your head. We wouldn't want that, nor do I need it seeing how you behaved from a few words of encouragement from your husband."

The jabs didn't stop there unfortunately, so she was relieved when it came time to join Koumei for a small meeting. He took her back to her mother's library and presented her with a scroll that she took with the hint of a grateful smile.

"I wasn't certain how you would feel about memorizing a speech," he told her. "I hope you don't mind it."

Asta opened the scroll carefully and read as much as she could with a skimming gaze, determining that it was far more eloquent and thought out than anything she would've come up with. She raised her eyes and unconsciously furled it back to its original state.

"I prefer it," said Asta, "thank you. I would likely ramble on without something like this."

Koumei took her upstairs to the desk piled high with books and maps. He carefully, and with great attention to detail, went over all of Freja's known movements thought her rallying and Bengt's—she could only imagine what that traitor was spouting. He filled her in on everything that he couldn't have before when he wanted to give her the time to rest, recover from her journey.

She nodded in understanding, asking questions when needed and tried to remember all the markings on the map he had made about the abandoned locations acquired for the rallies. He divulged his plan as well, how he intended to strike back, apologizing to her when he admitted she would be bait to lure her aunt out of hiding.

"I am willing to do anything in my power for this country," said Asta. "I don't care about being bait. Freja and Bengt are twisting ideals to their benefit. The truth is they have as much a clue on what to do in our poor situation as I did, but at the very least I have the Kou Empire and most of the Byzen Cluster's backing."

She refused to be bullied by Freja as she always had in the years of her youth. She was tired of being stomped all over for being thought of weak and incapable of any sort of strength, but Asta loved her country and its people. She wanted nothing more than to take care of them, find the ways that will benefit them rather than harm them, help them to adapt to the Kou Empire's occupation, though the meaning of it hurt her. She needed to adapt too.

However, first, she needed to be worth leaving at the helm of the Byzen Cluster. That was what she could do for everyone, become a capable leader.

So, as she sat with Koumei discussing the speech, she resolved to learn everything he could teach her. Sometime before departing, she thought about her promise and expressed her desire to find the whereabouts of the Corrinean and Baryonian princesses, determined to bring them back to the Cluster to be protected as they should've been in the first place.

She planned to take advantage of all of the Kou Empire's resources.

{ **iv **}

The Castle Guard kept two barracks, one inside and another outside of Io Castle. The outdoor barracks was primarily used for new recruits and trainees, as well as the captain tasked in training future members and the one responsible for the new members. New recruits remained new recruits for two years before being transferred to the indoor barracks and introduced to their captains. There were three others apart from the aforementioned two.

One oversaw the group in Asta's security detail, the second was in charge of the guards inside the castle, and the third controlled the patrols. All five captains answered to Commander Einar Lager, who came upon his position after his father was promoted. His Second, the vice-commander of the Castle Guard, took care of punishment, all manner of it. One could say, he took on the mantle Einar left behind with his advancement.

Vilhelm was technically the captain of Asta's guard, though his lieutenant, a stern formidable woman called Edda Hagebak always filled the role in his maddening absence. He organized the rotation of the guards that stood stalwart outside her bedroom door or in whatever room she was in, but that was as far as his contribution normally went. He left everything else to Edda, especially all the reports he was supposed to give Commander Lager, stating that he hated talking to the man. With good reason, Asta supposed, as he had once nearly had him whipped to death. Vilhelm wasn't the sort to forgive easily. Even if Einar's reasons were considered good enough to pardon the excessiveness of his punishment, Vilhelm refused to accept that as proper castigation.

"He likes to forget that we're human," Vilhelm had told her, after the Byzen Festival had concluded and he had been strong enough to leave the physician's tower. "He's a miserable pervert."

Asta had not quite understood the reason for the insult. She did see then that Einar Lager was monstrous for hurting Aghi and Vilhelm like he did, though it had been on her father's orders—she supposed she hated him too for overlooking the harsh punishments. However, perverted she thought meant something different. She had heard one of the cooks call a boy a pervert for trying to peek at her while she bathed, but had no other examples of the word.

She could understand now what Vilhelm meant about Einar. He was a pervert. Degrading people, pretending they're not people, watching them be tortured arouses him. I could be the blood.

Asta had a memory of him, a vivid one, of a time that she had gone hunting with Werner and returned with a cut on her elbow. She had been standing steady in a position to strike a hog down with an arrow nocked in the bow Werner had gifted her, the black animal was in her sight and she had been practicing days on end to hit it straight through the heart to make its death as quick and painless as possible, but she had stepped forward, her booted foot had slipped in the mud. She had fallen hard, the arrow flew high into canopy of oak trees above her, and she had felt the stew of sharp branches cut her so deep that they had found several splinters lodged in.

Einar had never been pleasant with her. He had behaved coldly towards her since as long as he had been in the Castle Guard. He had climbed fairly quickly since he had finished his training, excelling in everything that he did from a young age, and had become the vice-commander when he was sixteen, but many argued nepotism had played a part. Others had claimed that he had killed his predecessor because he had known he wouldn't be challenged. Back then, Asta hadn't believed those stories were anything other than gossip, but she had no reason to doubt that now. Einar was ambitious. Almost as ambitious as his father. It wouldn't be long before he tried to become a commander. With Brenna Falk's vacancy, it wouldn't be difficult for him, but he'd have to have Asta's approval, which she wouldn't give. He frightened her.

He had frightened her then when he had approached with other members of the Castle Guard after Werner had gone inside the castle to gather ointments and such to properly treat her wound. Einar had dismissed the others and gone down on his knee, taking her hand as if it were a delicate thing and raising it up to eye level, his hazel eyes sparkling with strange interest that made her stomach roil in disgust, but she had not taken her arm away from him. She had chosen to observe him as he had talked in that soft, sultry voice of his, different from the tone he had used the last time they had engaged in a conversation. He had almost caught her spying on Johan and had asked her to leave, spoke to her as he would any common person and it had annoyed her. He had never been her friend, so she had never allowed him to speak to her like the others, but she had realized that her authority had not matters much to him.

Einar had distracted her with conversation before he had brought the cut to his lips and she had felt his tongue run up the length of the cut that stretched from her elbow to a quarter part of her forearm. She had hit him reflexively with an open hand and when he returned his gaze to hers, releasing her, she had shouted for him to leave. She had wanted to tell Werner about what had happened, but could not find her voice when he had arrived and Einar had gone. She had hated him then a little more than before when she had watched him lick the blood from his lips, savoring it.

Asta woke up that morning after dreaming of that late afternoon with the sun setting into the trees, the world painted with an orange hue, the color dulling Einar's blond head into a deeper shade and enhancing the shadows of his face as he stared at her and licked his mouth. She ran into him on her way to see Agnes and blatantly ignored him when he greeted her, gangly and tall with his hair combed back messily and a seemingly harmless face.

Bo excused herself mid-walk intending to reprimand Einar because he wasn't supposed to be inside the castle, but Asta overheard him say that Koumei had summoned him.

Asta sat next to Christin at Agnes' bedside. Vilhelm had provided her his room since as a captain, he was given one for his own personal use while the others were forced to share. Christin had been sleeping with the others, crowded into a narrow room with eight bunkbeds lined along the walls and barely any space to walk between them, but she had apparently enjoyed the first night because she had met a recruit that she had called "a riot" because he had them all in peals of laughter the whole night, which had explained why everyone looked tired.

"I don't understand though," started Asta, looking up to Vilhelm standing at her side, "why would the Castle Guard be thrown out?"

"Prince Koumei suspects all of us," said Vilhelm. "I suppose di don't mind it that much given the possibility, especially after Egil Vång. I imagined he was as loyal as they came. Your father certainly trusted him well enough."

"It bothers me, though," said Asta.

"You can't think that way anymore," said Baron, leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest. "You have been betrayed enough times to have learned that you can't trust everyone undoubtedly."

"But that would mean I would have to be suspicious of everyone," replied Asta. "How do I determine who's being truthful and who isn't? How can I know if someone is going to betray me or not? Should I simply live my entire life in doubt?"

"Prince Koumei is going through everyone with a fine-toothed comb, I'm sure you won't have any enemies around you once he's through," said Vilhelm. "He's surprisingly useful that one."

"Of course he is!" protested Hua. "He's a prince of the Kou Empire."

"Yes, but I've seen him fall asleep while talking to a person before, I wouldn't call that impressive—well, when you think about it, it sort of is impressive, but not the sort of impressive that you want in a prince. I mean, compared to Kouen, he seems very spacey, but where Kouen has a more obvious _charm, _Koumei is less obvious," said Vilhelm. "I'm starting to think that you married the wrong prince, princess."

"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Asta, puffing out her cheeks. She thought Koumei was quite capable, very intelligent, not at all useless as Vilhelm's first impression presented. She also thought she heard a bit of an insult towards her husband.

"I mean that Koumei is probably the most dangerous prince of them all."

"You should ask for a divorce," suggested Christin. "I'm pretty sure it's common in your country for brothers to marry the same woman."

"I'm not getting a divorce!" argued Asta.

"Our emperor married the dowager empress in order to adopt her children," said Hua heatedly, her cheeks flushing. "It was a symbol of kindness so that they could retain their ranks."

"See, princess? Prince Koumei can marry you as an act of kindness when you cut Kouen off," said Christin reassuringly. "Oh! Maybe we should get rid of him! So that he'll be dead and leave the—"

"That is treason, you idiot."

Asta, Vilhelm, Baron, and Hua exchanged looks as Christin gasped, looking towards Agnes who had beaten them all to the punch. Christin jumped onto the bed to squeeze her in her arms. It took Vilhelm and Baron together to pry her off. She was a blubbering mess. Even Asta felt the swell of emotion in her chest at the sight of Agnes waking.

Sometime after Christin had calmed herself down to say something embarrassing, she did, telling Agnes that Asta had spent as much time at her bedside as she likely spent having sexual fantasies of Kouen. Asta, beat red, cried out about the sexual fantasies, but everyone shot her disbelieving looks. Even Baron.

Asta was happy to be surrounded by their mirth. It eased her worries about the big speech she was in the process of learning. Every time she read it, she remembered all the bad things that happened to her, starting as far back as Slimy Bengt and most recent events revolving around Egil Vång. She replayed what occurred to Aesop most of all, recalled the way he had died and the crowd taking hold of her.

She feared it would repeat itself, only she'd be the dead one.

Everyone, for one reason or another, filed out of the room until Asta was left alone in Agnes company. There was a bit of awkwardness in the air, sprawling between them like a lazy cat.

"You didn't have to waste so much time on me," said Agnes, breaking the silence, "but I appreciate that you did. I don't know why."

"I worry about all of my friends," said Asta, thinking herself brazen for calling her a friend when they had started off as enemies. She smiled hesitantly, lowering her eyes to her folded hands on her lap, her heart hammering in her chest.

"I understand why you are so loved by your people," said Agnes, and Asta raised her face to look at her, watching a small smile curve her lips. "However, I can see why you tend to so easily become a target."

Asta pressed her lips together into a tight line.

"I hope to see you grow into your own," continued Agnes. "You're too young to have suffered so much, but perhaps that's why you were bestowed your gift."

"To suffer?"

Agnes offered her a sweet smile, but did not answer her question. Asta hoped she hadn't given her a response because Christin had stormed in a second later rather than to affirm that she had indeed understood what she meant by her words.

{ **v **}

She was scared. Terrified, actually, would be a better word to describe the feeling of absolute terror clawing at her innards as final preparations were being made to escort her to Astoria where she would give the speech Koumei handed her three days past. She memorized it, almost completely word for word. She missed few bits here and there the last time she practiced with Fu.

Asta started to feel as though it was all too much. She feared the reaction of her people after all the vile things they were fed by Freja and Bengt, the worst of it being that she felt that there was a modicum of truth in some of those things. How could she argue with them?

Not to mention the fact that she hated to image the possibility of another attack on her, which was quite possible given who she was and how often it had already occurred. Gaku and Seishuu would be with her, along with Carina, Aghi, Sigge, Vilhelm, and Commander Eld. The Commander of the Castle Guard would be present also with the entire force handling security detail, especially for the event. Even Christin and Agnes would be there, spectating, but there in person. She appreciated the support.

The encouragement was there. Everyone was being supremely helpful to her and extremely polite as well, but as time trickled on with the consistency of a leaky faucet, Asta grew more and more fearful of all the things that could go wrong. She compared them to everything that had previously gone terribly wrong.

She had spoken in front of crowds of hundreds of Ionian citizens before and while it had been nerve-racking, it was nothing like this. This felt like her heart might give out. She was beyond nervous. Anxiety didn't cover the ground that she had crossed into blindly. The invisible noose around her neck was tightening still, as if it were fixing her to her seat. The thinning air, her skin growing cold, her throat drying like water in the desert, and tiny beads of perspiration on her forehead.

By the time that she imagined either Hua or Fu entering her bedchamber to inform her that they were about to depart, Asta was running down a flight of service stairs having snuck past a pair of slacking guards playing cards. She had lied to the two in front of her door about already going down there to meet Koumei because she knew they wouldn't have let her pass otherwise. This was an important step for everyone to take in this point of time. There were signs of rioting and mounting anger among the citizens. The increase of Kou Empire soldiers, their numbers dwarfing the amount of remaining Ionian soldiers, upset the masses to the point that everyone was slowly and surely developing the sneaking suspicion that they had been abandoned by the remaining Io royal, who according to Bengt had gone gallivanting on a honeymoon with her husband through the Byzen Cluster.

Running away wouldn't fix anything and she hated herself for doing it. All of the voices pursuing her, rushing with her at her top speed cursed her cowardice, commanded that she turned around and face the people. She had recognized her father among the others. In the dark, when she had slipped into a tiny storage room white from dust that stunk of age and earth, she saw faces, most of them blurred in her periphery as she refused to look into them. She moved quietly among cobwebs and creaking floors until she had found a chintz armchair among a huddled group of unwanted, flea eaten furniture draped in white sheets. She sat and clouds of dust settled to the ground, shinning in the bit of sunlight shining through the cracks in the boarded up windows.

She used to come here often as a girl. She called it running away, but Brita always came to fetch her. Sometimes Brita would come and bring her fruit, helping her peel apples and oranges with a knife that she kept hidden between the cushions of the broken couch beside the chair. Curiously, as the anxiety chose its outlet in the form of tears, Asta stood up, moving to the couch and tugged off the sheet, searching underneath between the lopsided cushions until she felt a sharp sting on her hand that made her jerk back in time to see a bead of red form.

She sucked her finger into her mouth, the metallic taste filling her taste buds, as she carefully extracted the knife from the couch. The handkerchief that had been wound tight around it had come undone and the sharp end of it shone menacingly with the blood it took from her. The memory of the talks she had with Brita in this small storage room made her wish she was here.

Asta hadn't asked about Brita since she had returned. She should've. She knew that she was working in the Åkerman farms and she hoped that she hadn't been involved in the scandal that cost Kay Åkerman his life. She wouldn't, of course. Brita would never betray Asta's mother. She loved and respected her too much. Brita wouldn't betray her either because they were friends. It took a while for them to reach that point, but when it happened, it had been as if it were meant to be, as if everything was right in the world.

She set aside the knife as tears ran down her face and turned towards the windows, horrified with her behavior. Running away from her responsibilities to her hiding place from childhood, away from the dangers she perceived were lying in wait to spring at her, made her feel ashamed of herself, of her noble birth and title. She didn't deserve any of it if she couldn't be strong enough to deliver a speech to win her people over. She could do it. That was what everyone always said that she had, the support of her people. They loved her. She was positive that there were many out there listening to Freja and Bengt's badmouthing and calling it slander, defending her. She needed to speak to them, convince them that she was going to protect them all with the Kou Empire's backing. Explain that while she was going to serve the Kou Empire's emperor, she would be running the kingdom as she was meant to—"_a puppet queen_."

Asta covered her face to hide the tears from the ghosts taunting her and wished they would all go away. She sobbed inconsolably into her hands, wished she was someone else. Anyone but her. She wasn't working right. Her mind was all over the place. She was going insane. She hated herself, ashamed of her fear. A true leader didn't have to fear anything. Her father taught her that and he was probably wrong as he was about many things, but she couldn't shake the memory of him saying that to her when she had snuck into his bed because she was afraid of the thunder booming in the blackened heavens, the heavy rain pelting hard against the windows.

Hákon had raised the coverlet high above her shoulder, enveloping her in a warm embrace, and had spoken the words as if they were meant to encourage her. She had hiccupped and cried until the affectionate stroke of his fingers against the side of her face, pushing the pale strands of hair behind her ear, lulled her to sleep. And very softly, unfolding like a whispering wind rushing past her ears, he said, "_A ruler fears nothing._"

She had tried to be brave since, whenever thunderstorm season came around, but she'd shrink the louder the boom of thunder sounded and flinched with every flash of lightning she saw through her window, muddled with rainwater. She had wanted to prove to her father that she had the markings of a proper queen because she had been under the impression, in her innocence, that she could change his mind about allowing her to be educated to become the ruler of Ione as her mother had wanted, as she had dreamed.

She would be in complete control of the Byzen Cluster, but she would be answering to Kouen's father. She supposed that did make her a "_puppet queen_," but she would be in a position of power. She planned to use her position to become a shield for the entire cluster. She hoped that having someone familiar leading would ease the transition for everyone. She didn't care what needed to be done. And yet, here she was hiding.

Asta straightened out, turning towards the door, certain there was still time for her to make it back to the front of the castle, when she watched Commander Einar Lager enter the storage room.

"I was just about to go—"

The heavy lock of the door sounded as he turned slowly to face her, his right hand reaching for the hilt of his sword as a strange smile curved his lips, and her heart sank like a stone.


	41. (13) Riot Abyss - Pt 3

**RIOT ABYSS **| BRITA GRAHN

| **i **|

Freja slammed her goblet with an impatient growl. The news had only just reached them of Asta's return and the rally she had planned to host in Astoria that morning. Freja had taken Egil's death hard, too, but not quite as badly as his wife, who she heard had appeared murderous after she had been told, though that could have been the house arrest of her entire family. However, unlike Freja and Finn Byquist, standing by the window staring out into the green fields of his domain with his hands held behind his back with a hardened look upon his face, Brita had made arrangements. With the sound of Bengt downstairs shouting demands at Finn's staff, the consistency of Freja's sighs, and the persistence of Finn's stony silence, Brita had spent her days searching for things to do while they were all supposed to lay low.

She was fortunate to have survived. She knew that in that dark dank prison, she would have eventually met the same fate as Kay, but Bo released her. Bo must have known that when she had, she would go after Asta again. The words Bo gave her as reason for her actions were odd.

_"There is still more that you need to teach Princess Asta about this world."_

Mulling it over left Brita stumped. What could she teach Asta apart from the glaring fact that the world was shit and that the people around her, the ones that she thought closest, were truly her enemies? What benefit would that have? Especially in the end when she would be dead. The plan wouldn't change. Allowing her to escape was simply, as she had contemplated it in her cell, another shot at Asta that she would take.

However, the longer she considered Asta and the more unwanted memories seeped into her mind about events and people she'd rather leave out of the larger picture, she wondered if she was being petty. Somewhere, deep down inside, she felt a thick darkness that made her feel ugly things—things that she didn't think herself capable of feeling before.

_"Are you jealous of her?" asked Johan, the smile curving his lips brightened his entire face._

_It sounded so ludicrous in her ears. "Jealous? Are you daft? Why would I be jealous of her? She's a child."_

_Johan and Brita stood together under one of the arched entryways surrounding the courtyard where fancier events took place. They were careful about where they were standing, obscured from wandering eyes under the heavy shadows cast by the architecture. _

_"Why wouldn't any woman be? Asta is a princess. She is at the pinnacle. She is beautiful and small. Oh, and dainty too. She's charming—"_

_"Is she charming you Johan?" interjected Brita, trying not to sound affected, though her heart sank as it hammered noisily in her chest. "You're a fool. She follows you around like a puppy. She has no self-respect."_

_Johan rubbed his chin, his smile faltering, eyes glimmering strangely. "Some men like to be pursued, you know. It's not just women. She's very good at chasing."_

_Brita huffed and stormed away, hearing Johan laugh after her, shouting apologizes as she went, but she didn't turn back. He was a fool if he was allowing himself to be charmed by a child. She was a little girl. Fifteen!_

_She refused to acknowledge the notion of being jealous of her. What did she have to be jealous of her for?_

"You need to go back," said Freja, shattering Brita's morbid train of thought.

"Back?" queried Brita.

"Yes, go back to Asta, slither back into her service."

She doubted Bo would let that happen. "What is the point? You've tried this tactic before and it's failed. Look at where it's left Egil."

"Egil failed in his desperation no doubt," said Finn, the giant man with graying blond hair. He slowly turned on his heel to look into Freja's direction. "Let us not forget that Brita is practically a fugitive. She's wanted for escaping her sentence. No guard with any sense will allow her anywhere near the princess. It's impossible to use her."

Freja rolled her eyes, sinking back into her seat. "It wouldn't be hard to lie and say you were wrongly accused."

"There's no need," piped Brita. She supposed now was as good a time as any to confess her actions. Freja and Finn offered her their undivided attention. "Seeing as my movements have been tied down after I escaped my imprisonment, I arranged for an old friend to do me a favor." She never went into details as to how she escaped. Bo, she suspected, would become something of a trump card for them if this plan failed them, though she doubted it would, Einar was not the kind of person that disappointed easily. "If it all goes well you won't have a princess to worry about before the day is out."

Freja and Finn exchanged hopeful looks.

Brita sat back proudly. All that was left to do was wait for Einar to send her news.

**RIOT ABYSS** | END


	42. (14) Quiet Avenger - Pt 1

**FOURTEEN**: Quiet Avenger

* * *

**Lorah**

_The Needle._

Lorah is an industrialized country founded on the lucrative business of textile production and distribution. There are hundreds of different factories throughout Lorah, each owned by the wealthiest families in the country. Distribution is handled through an agreement with Hassah, who uses their trade routes and expertise in the world's market to sell Lorahian textiles.

Although, Lorah is behind more businesses than textile, economically, they thrive off their beautiful fabrics and the fashion houses in charge of the production of high-end clothing. Investments made to the many businesses in Lorah has saved several of the Cluster kingdoms from suffering unrecoverable monetary decline. Despite not being the richest of the kingdoms, Lorah is smart with money, able to take a small sum and quadruple it. They also fund many of Nohr's experimental designs for a percentage of the profits (when successfully). They, more or less, act as a bank for the Cluster.

* * *

**xl**: Happy Halloween!

Empress led the polls from the get-go, which was good because that kicked my butt into gear (and it produced this chapter - which I enjoyed), but it ended up tied for 1st with Firestarter. Both winners, both updated.

Do visit my profile for the gist of a few important announcements after you've enjoyed this chapter.

Lorah is a mega fashion house. Their royals are fashion icons. That was the only thought in my head when I was creating Lorah. Just imagine them all super stylish and stuff. And stiff. Very stiff.

Shout out to: **starrat**, **grimxichixshiroxmomoxorixx**, **shipudden-piece**, **fianna2452**, **Guest**, **De hearts 26**, and **Miqila** for the reviews last chapter!

Enjoy!

P.S. If you could take the time to comment on this with your suggestions, I would really appreciate it. What sort of intros would you like to see now that I'm finished going through all the Byzen Cluster kingdoms?


	43. (14) Quiet Avenger - Pt 2

**QUIET AVENGER **| ILYA PETROV

\- **i -**

Princess Louise Rousseau of Lorah invited Ilya and Melik back onto her ship after twenty-four hours of deliberation. They were not required to go further beyond the latter they climbed to reach the deck because Louise waited for them there, her short hair neatly styled, not a strand out of place, and Robert, seeming gigantic behind his small princess, with his salt-and-pepper beard, hands behind his straightened back, stalwart. The ship rocked gently, the breeze carried with them the spray of saltwater, and above the sky was a thick blanket of gray clouds.

Ilya felt his nervousness like static perpetually attached to the inside of his body, buzzing all around him, invading every nook and cranny of his being. It didn't help that Melik had tried to ease his anxious energy by attempting to massage the tension out of his shoulders before they had received Louise's summons and he had flinched every time the older prince or anyone else for that matter had come near him. Louise's answer determined whether they would have to prepare for another war or a negotiation session.

"Lorah refuses to dialogue with the Kou Empire," said Louise firmly, the confident demeanor and the stern expression molding in her childish face made her appear older than her eight years.

"You are making a mistake," said Melik.

"Lorah will not quietly set aside its beliefs to ease one princess' conscious," stated Robert. "Negotiations with an aggressive country such as the Kou Empire does not ensure a beneficial outcome for Lorah. We would be, as all the rest, servants to their whims if we were to so much as accept the discussion of joining them."

"Thank you, Robert," said Louise, fixing her hazel gaze on both Ilya and Melik. "Do give Prince Kouen a message for us. Tell him that Lorah will be waiting for him and his army. And you traitors will do well to steer clear of the battlefield if you wish to avoid another Tzap Incident because if any island is going to sink to the bottom of the sea like Tzap, it's going to be Ione and I heard Princess Asta is back home. Now, get off my ship and consider all contracts between our countries severed."

"Louise—"

Melik took one step forward and a Lorahian soldier drew a sword to his neck, forcing him to move back.

Ilya breathed in, allowing the oxygen entering his lungs to calm him. "Understood." He turned to Melik with a fierce stare. "We are going, Melik."

Upon boarding his ship, Ilya asked for word to be sent to Kouen detailing their failure. Lorah would not make the first move. Louise and Robert would bide their time and analyze the situation to its very depths before determining their best course of action and they would not relent until they either emerged victorious or fell in battle.

"It's a shame that this feels like a wasted trip," commented Melik, sighing with disappointment.

"I've asked Kouen to meet us in Nohr," said Ilya.

"Did you tell him to bring a coat?" asked Melik.

It appeared almost effortless to Melik to find new ways to annoy him.

"Oh, should I have written a postscript suggesting that he bring warm clothing in a letter filled with terrible news?" asked Ilya, frustrated by the stupid look on Melik's face.

"I don't think it can get any worse that arriving to Nohr to realize you're severely underdressed. He looks like a summer—"

"Stop talking! Why don't you find something better to do than annoy me, you insufferable _philanderer_?"

Melik gaped at him a second, lowered his eyes to the ground, shut his mouth, and slowly turned, muttering beneath his breath that he would go find himself a coat. Even his exaggerated reaction annoyed him.

Ilya found one of his men and asked him to send another message to Kouen, one that suggested he bring a coat. He felt stupid for sending it, but he couldn't take it back. He wouldn't. Although, the Byzen Cluster was about to enter its summer season, the last of the rainy season that herald the transition coming to an end, Nohr remained cold, colder than the rest of the island kingdoms combined, until they reached the peak of the season and it became warm. Anyone unfamiliar with the climate would be surprised to endure it and he supposed that it was better to be prepared.

He huffed, turning on his heel with every intention of hunting Melik down. He wanted to apologize for calling him a philanderer, but as soon as he entered the cabin on the other end of the ship, he caught Melik flirting with a member of the kitchen staff, a mousy girl with bobbed yellow hair and a splay of freckles, who took one look at Ilya's face and excused herself.

Melik frowned when he noticed him, leaning into the wall exuding charm with his long braid coming undone. His appearance surprisingly messy from several minutes ago before they separated, white shirt crumpled and falling slightly off his shoulder exposing the toned, soldier's body underneath. "You'll never find a bride if you scowl so hard. You'll wrinkle early."

He caught him staring at him and smirked, in the same manner he had been smiling at the girl.

Ilya glared at him, forcing his way past him in the narrow hallway, bumping shoulders with him hard, harder than usual as if he needed him to know that he was aggravated.

"Ilya!" cried Melik, chasing him. "Look, I'm sorry, I don't mean it, you won't get all wrinkly because you scowl so much, and even if you did, you'd look that much more handsome! You have the right face! Structure! You have good facial structure, very symmetrical! Ily—"

Ilya slammed the door in his face, locking it. There was a loud thud on the other side from when Melik ran into the door. He whined, cursing beneath his breath pathetically, apologizing to him. He probably didn't know why he was even apologizing. Ilya certainly did not understand it either. Anything Melik related tended to confound him, and yet, here they were again, together, sharing the room too because as the largest and because they were of the same rank, if equal accommodations could not be made, they should be shared. Melik argued for it.

One never won with Melik. That selfish, philandering prince always won.

\- **ii -**

Nohr consisted mostly of mountainous terrain and forests with its capital, Tsar, a circular city surrounded by high blackened walls with long slim stone edifices that rivaled their heights. Petrov Castle sat in the heart of Tsar, a formidable cluster of high turrets, a number of them joined by sturdy bridges, several crisscrossing, enclosed by an iron gate. There weren't any outdoor courtyards in the middle of beautifully landscaped gardens or even the slightest trace of any other plant except the occasional weed sprouting stubbornly through the concrete. The only plants were the ones kept in the palace's ingredient stores, most of them grown outside of the capital in one of the towns farther from it where agriculture prevailed through Nohr's unreliable weather.

Tsar was situated on a stretch of barren land, though it interposed past the boundaries of the woods in the northwest and the mountainous terrain in the northeast where several homes were built on a steep incline. The giant trees that had once stood proudly in the capital, serving as a park many decades ago with a road that led into the tiny towns scattered across the forest, had withered—stories claimed—when the flash of white light had blinded the denizens of their country. After the black spots had cleared from their vision, they had watched the trees, which had been full of bright green leaves, glistening in the summer's sun, turn black and brittle, falling into piles of ashes scattered by the passing wind.

The Tzap Incident had decided the boundary of Tsar, that had been the lesson that Ilya recalled from the many his mother had drilled into him since he had been young enough to comprehend the importance of the day that had defined the Byzen Cluster. After the trees had died in that spot, the walls had been built, enclosing Tsar, outlining its borders solidly.

Ilya and Melik waited atop a hillside behind the Luvyek port for Kouen's ship to pull in, his valet, a youthful boy of fourteen with hay colored hair, stood in the middle of the wooden dock swathed in a thick woolen scarf. Melik sniffed noisily, teeth chattering, as he astride a black mare with glossy dark hair wearing a thick fur coat over three layers of clothes, boots lined with sheep's wool, a warm hat, gloves, and a scarf he hiked up above his nose. The weather wasn't nearly as horrible as Melik's appearance made it seem, though one of his castle's magicians told them there was a high chance of rain later in the evening, so Ilya had planned for them to take a route around the mountains to reach the capital to avoid the dangerous terrain.

"I think we should strip down to nothing and huddle together under a blanket," chattered Melik, shuddering visibly when the next breeze of cold air slapped his brown cheeks.

"You would die the instant a breeze hits your naked ass," said Ilya, looking ahead into the calm sea listlessly, half-listening to his annoying companion.

Melik grabbed him by the arm, forcing him to turn in his direction. Ilya started at the sight of his wide black eyes.

"What?" snapped Ilya, snatching his arm back, returning his hands to the reins of the white mare where he sat astride.

"Do you want to have dinner with me later?" asked Melik, his voice surprisingly smooth.

He frowned, perplexed by the depths of his stupidity. "We have dinner together every evening."

"I meant without the presence of your glaring father and troll of a brother," clarified the Hassahan prince. "My delicate sensibilities can only stand so much hideousness."

He supposed it had been difficult for Melik to sit under the critical gaze of his father, the silent king of Nohr, and the constant threat of his brother kicking him underneath the table or attempting to curse him somehow. Ilya felt Melik suffered the consequences of the reputation he had built for himself and that he deserved it for being a shameless man with few scruples, but he imagined that it was difficult to be hated by everyone.

"Very well," said Ilya. "I'll have a private dinner for us to be arranged, but we should probably have Kouen join us."

Melik grimaced. "We should probably keep things intimate. I'm sure he'd rather have a staring contest with your father."

"Perhaps, we should postpone dinner," considered Ilya. "It wouldn't be very hospitable to leave him alone with my father and brother."

"He's practically invading your country, I'm sure he'll understand."

"We are having negotiations."

"Fine, but you have to let me go to your room at night," stated Melik.

"Why in the seven hells would I invite you to my room?" demanded Ilya hotly. "I wouldn't get a wink of sleep with you present."

"That is the point."

Ilya stared at his smiling face blankly, the underlying intention of the conversation dawning on him. He just solicited him for sex, didn't he? He cursed his stupidity, feeling his face warm with embarrassment and exasperation.

"This conversation is done."

Melik burst out laughing. "You're so innocent! It's adorable! Look at how red your cheeks are! Don't tell me you've never brought a girl to your royal bedchamber?"

"I am not you," spat Ilya, aghast with the thought. "I do not shamelessly invite anyone into my bedchamber!"

"I do not bring women into my room either."

He had a hard time believing he didn't given his indisputable reputation for being a shameless flirt. All he had done since they had arrived to Nohr was smile charmingly to the entire female staff of Petrov Castle to the point they had formed groups that would seek him out throughout the day for the smallest glimpse of his stupidly handsome face. Melik never cared that his actions were disrupting the strict flow of service expected out of Petrov Castle, he had merely thrived on the attention, loving it dearly as one might a blazing fire during a wintry storm.

"Your dishonesty disgusts me."

"Don't be so mean, Ilya, you know I wouldn't do that to you."

"To me? What do I have to do with your womanizing?" he shouted, outraged by the assumption. This was taking the teasing too far in his opinion and his anger showed up blazing red on his flushed cheeks.

"Oh, Ilya, you're so pure, too good for this world. You'll break plenty of hearts. You're breaking mine right now."

"That didn't answer the question!"

Melik went on to complain about the weather, neglecting to respond to the question.

Ilya spent the rest of the time in silence until he watched a the first of several Kou Empire ship anchor at port. Kouen emerged from the ship with two giant monster-like men following close behind, one resembling a dragon and the other a lion and bull hybrid. Werner, the Ionian Senior Commander, stepped onto the port a few steps behind with Alexei bringing up the rear, sullen.

Ilya and Melik inclined their heads, a sign of respect, before Ilya proceeded to welcome him to his country, expressing that accommodations had been prepared for him. Kouen and his men were provided horses that would carry them to Petrov Castle and in a small group, they all rode in silence. The howling winds thrashed around them as the first signs of the storm arrived sprinkling droplets of water on them.

By the time they reached the tall gate of Tsar, the city engulfed in a magical barrier managed by hundreds of magicians from inside of their Magic Tower south of Petrov Castle, the rain was falling heavily upon them, soaking them to the marrow. There were no louder complaints than Melik's. The midnight blue sky sparked, coming alive with thunderous rumbling and flashes of white light that cast dark shadows upon the stone buildings within. The ruby-embedded ring that Ilya wore on his right hand granted them access through the gates and past the narrow streets they rode to the curious eyes peering from beyond squared windows glowing with light.

All of the roads where long thin lines and the neighborhoods they crossed consisted of tightly packed homes situated side by side with barely a foot between them. The capital hosted the highest population in the country, though the farmlands to the far east were a strong contender. The Nohrian School of Magic and the magician's Magic Tower were both built upon an eight-pointed star courtyard a block down the street of Petrov Castle. It attracted many, resulting in highly congested roads in the morning hours.

Melik's admirers were waiting in the high-ceiling foyer in front of the grand staircase leading into the dark labyrinths upstairs. The women flocked to Melik, draping him in warm blankets securely before going around the room to hand them out to the rest.

Arina, the old woman who raised him, approached him straight away, struggling to wrap him in the blanket with her wrinkly, knobby hands standing on her tiptoes trembling. He made things easy for her by bending his knees, shrinking down to stand at eye level, and smiled at her flat wrinkled face, her gray hair covered by a black fringed scarf.

Kouen intimidated the young woman who presented him with a cover and he distinctly imagined that if Asta was there, as she would have wanted and like he assumed her husband might have preferred, she'd be behaving oddly, likely staring upon the girl, a youthful beauty with jet-black hair, as a rival. There was something inertly impressive about the foreign prince, a serious and handsome mien that attracted attention, a quiet power and intelligence without seeming too boastful, and a confidence beyond rational thought.

Beautiful women flocked to him in interest, curious about him, or drawn by the narrow red eyes with which he deconstructed the world around him down to information organized and stored for future reference in his brain. Powerful men respected him for his military prowess and strength, his ability to command and move a room with words. He charmed his soldiers by believing in them and their strengths, relying implicitly. There was no soldier sworn to him that would not die for him, but Ilya's eyes went to the beast-like men with him. Those two were the most loyal, the most dangerous of his men. They lived for their prince.

"Asta will be scandalized," commented Melik aloud, drawing the foreign prince's attention with his wife's mention.

Kouen placidly dried the dripping ends of his hair on the blanket, soaked as they all were, but appearing numb to the cold that assaulted them. His gaze narrowed, as he spoke, choosing his words carefully, "What reason would she have to feel scandalized?"

"Asta is a jealous young woman," answered Melik, his impressive ability to speak however he wanted to people both amazed and irritated Ilya. "She will not approve of all the female attention you're receiving."

Many girls exchanged looks, their cheeks flushed from the embarrassment of having been caught.

Kouen offered them a rare smile. The topic of his wife amused him, it seemed, and why shouldn't it. Asta grew on people, wormed her way into hearts and camped there in earnest, putting more effort into others than she did herself. Ilya saw it in Kouen's countenance that she charmed him, probably unbeknownst to either of them, but she had definitely and inevitably left an imprint, piquing his interest.

He said nothing, letting Melik's statement float between them, and Ilya ordered the waiting servants to usher everyone to their quarters, to rest from their long journey from Corrin. The armies accompanying them would be staying in a fort west of the port where they would be cared for accordingly by the servants occupying the stout building.

It wouldn't be for another three hours that they would meet when a feast was prepared to precursor negotiations between Kouen and Roman, the King of Nohr. A courtesy feast. A pretty decoration. Something nice in case things went terribly bad, as they normally did when it came to his father.

Ilya stood idle after a hot bath, steam rising from his pale skin, as his body was clothed by his valet. The ends of his black hair were still dripping, though the messy locks were pushed back out of his face. His valet stepped away as soon as he finished, bowing low and remaining that way until Ilya gestured him to straighten up.

He wore a loose fitting white shirt tucked into a dark pair of pants with a black jacket embroidered at the front with designs one felt rather than saw, the two buttons at the top of it left undone to reveal a peek of white underneath. He stuffed his pant legs into his boots and laced them up before allowing his valet to dry the tips of his hair, by the time he had finished, the rest of it was drying into its usually unruly state, not even a comb could tame the bits of hair that stuck out in odd places.

Ilya placed the ruby ring on his finger, right hand index finger. He fixed it, aligning the blood stone in the center before deeming himself presentable and leaving the room. He followed a wide hallway dressed in shadow and pale statues of stalwart and dignified knights or reserved and beautiful women. There were painting in between a number of them of dark landscapes or doors that went into the several unoccupied rooms.

The sound of Melik's boisterous laughter rang in his ears. His guest quarters began where Ilya's ended at the end of the hall. Petrov Castle was divided into several sections per floor, of which there were five, with guest accommodations in each. Ilya's floor was the second highest, being Crown Prince, he was underneath the uppermost level where his father's domain sat. Grisha, his only sibling, inhabited the floor beneath his. The second floor was reserved for the castle's magicians, equipped with a massive research library and rooms for experimentation and storage, and the ground level accommodations belonged to the castle's staff, consisting of all the areas in which they were most active—dining and sitting rooms, etcetera.

Kouen's lodgings were on the top floor. Ilya's father wanted him to know that they were on equal ground. His men were granted permission to be with him up there in smaller suites, though more than they were comfortable accepting. Werner stayed in Ilya's floor, though he would not have minded being left behind in the fort like the rest of their armies.

Melik burst out of his room stumbling as he tugged on a deep emerald kaftan not realizing that he almost ran straight into Ilya, who jolted, his hands up ready to shove him if he made even the slightest contact. Melik jerked back, straightening, and turned, noticing the unintentionally startled look in Ilya's face. The laughter drained from his expression. He took a step back that made Ilya's stomach twist in disdain.

"Prince Melik, wait, your hair—"

"Oh, you've forgotten your necklaces—"

A pair of young women spilled out onto the hallway behind Melik, one carrying a hairbrush in one hand and a white ribbon in the other while the second girl held the gem-encrusted necklaces dangling from her hand. The two startled upon meeting Ilya's gaze and sank into deep bows, greeting him in unison with their eyes glued to the floor, bodies rigid.

Ilya said nothing to him, merely walked past him, heading towards the staircase.

"What did I do now?" shouted Melik.

Nothing. He wasn't upset. He was on edge.

Ilya encountered his father on his way to the dining hall. Roman Petrov, the King of Nohr, was a giant, powerful man with a thick black mustache and beard, his dark hair down his shoulders hidden partly by a horned helmet that he started to remove. His eyes were narrow, a dark blue shade, under bushy eyebrows.

He lowered his head. "Good evening, father."

"You're too jittery, Ilya," said Roman, voice deep and rough. "Compose yourself."

"Yes, father."

Ilya's cheeks heated, embarrassed that his emotions seeped out against all of the reinforcements he put up. He waited for his father to cross the room ahead of him before raising his head, alerted to the soft clink of heeled boots. He turned his head and watched his younger brother emerge from a shadowed hallway with a wry smile playing on his lips, his hair tied half up into a ponytail.

Grisha paused, bowing. "Evening, brother."

"Hello, Grisha."

His brother glimpsed around, a curious look in his green eyes. "Where is Lord Melik? I feel he rarely leaves your side since you were reunited."

"He does not answer to me."

"Hmm." Grisha's lank black hair moved side-to-side as he advanced, tilting his head. "Quite sad. I do think I like you better with him."

Grisha followed the same path as their father. Ilya walked after him swiftly, keeping a wide distance between them.

Dinner was served with a backdrop of thunder and the heavy pelting of rain against the tall windows. For several minutes, after terse introductions were made, only the clanking of the silverware hung in the air. His father sat in his usual seat, at the end of the table, and Kouen on the opposite side. Only those involved in negotiations were in attendance. All of the servants were dismissed with the exception of their butler, a tall man dressed in black with a thin mustache and a glazed look.

"Did you choose to marry, Princess Asta?" asked Grisha, having spent the entire evening watching Kouen eat.

Roman eyed his youngest son in disapproval.

"Yes," answered Kouen, returning his fork to its place, "but that's irrelevant to our discussion." He raised his red eyes to Roman. "What do you want for Nohr to submit to the Kou Empire?"

Melik stuffed a roll of bread into his mouth. The candelabra with its burning candles shone its yellow light on all of the jewels hung from his neck, giving his dark skin a stunning sheen. His shinning eyes met Ilya's gaze and he turned away, ignoring him to address Kouen.

"Perhaps, we should leave the conversation for—"

"No," said Roman, setting his wine glass down after a large gulp. The butler moved swiftly to his side to refill his glass. "We should discuss this presently. What do you suppose the Kou Empire can offer Nohr?"

"Whatever you need," said Kouen. "However, your kingdom will belong to Kou Empire. You will answer to the emperor. You will no longer be a king and your sons will not be princes. You will serve my country dutifully and faithfully. If you refuse, I will conquer your kingdom."

"Those are big words for a man separated from his army," stated Roman, visibly annoyed by Kouen's brazenness.

"I don't need my army to conquer your country."

Grisha jumped to his feet, slamming a fist on the table, the silverware clanged noisily. "How dare you threaten our country?"

Ilya grabbed Grisha's arm and forced him back into his seat. "Grisha. Stop."

Grisha snatched his arm away. "Don't touch me, you traitor! You brought him back here! I would not have staked our country on a battle against that stupid prince when I've never been able to beat him once in my entire life!"

He bristled, reaching to grab his brother by the collar of his jacket, his other hand fisted, prepared to strike, but he felt the cold onyx jewel at the end of his brother's wand press hard against his cheek. That alone stopped him from punching his brother's smug face in because he wouldn't be able to strike while Grisha's guard was up, his borg would protect him.

"Ilya, Grisha, you are dismissed," said Roman, his tone brooked no argument.

"But father—"

Roman glared at Grisha, silencing him.

Ilya shoved Grisha back into his seat and stormed out of the dining room ashamed of his behavior, frustrated that he would not sit through the rest of negotiations because of it. Grisha pursued him, shouting after him as he always had for as long as he could remember. He used to chase him, target him, pointing his wand in his direction shooting new combinations of water magic that he learned from his magic instructors until one struck him down. Only after he accomplished what he set out to do would he dissolve into a fit of giggles, asking between peals of laughter why Ilya couldn't use a borg to defend himself.

Grisha hurled a torrent of water in his direction. Ilya scarcely evaded the attack watching it smash through an obsidian vase, the pieces falling, scratching against one another creating a melody of soft music, but it bounced off the wall and hit Ilya in the chest, sending him flying backward. He hit the ground, the wind knocked out of him, water forcing itself down his throat, burning like acid.

He gasped for breath, turning over, coughing out the water from his lungs as he struggled to regain his breath. Grisha kicked his face with a booted foot. His cheek burned from the sudden pain and he tasted blood inside his mouth. His skin prickled as it bruised.

Ilya raised his head an inch off the ground to have it shoved back into it, pinned down by his brother's foot. "Learn your place, brother," spat Grisha, "and stay there."

He cursed inwardly, long after Grisha left him lying on the floor soaked, his face bruising and bleeding, to stew in his humiliation. He rose, none of the servants daring to approach him, and looked around at his surroundings, his vision a little foggy, his head throbbing, face aching, blood flowing freely from his nose. He started to move towards the arched entryway to the corridor that led to the nearest staircase when the double doors behind him opened, his father strode out, his presence filling the room, same as his gigantic body.

Ilya turned to him, stopping to bow respectfully. His father's eyes lingered longer on the mess Grisha had made than on Ilya.

He was a ghost.

His stomach sank as he waited for his father's thundering steps to fade into the corridor. He patted his clothes for a handkerchief as Kouen and Melik exited, discussing a matter in low whispers.

Ilya found a sodden cloth in his breast pocket and used it to wipe the blood from his face, but failed. It continued to run from his nose as if it were rushing to escape his body.

He faced Kouen in his sorry state, the Kou Empire's First Prince looked upon him in scrutiny. "What did my father ask for?"

"Money," said Kouen blankly. Ilya expected as much, so it hadn't surprised him. "Foremost. Next that the Nohrian Magic Academy be left in his complete control and that you be taken into my service."

Yes. It all sounded like his father, though he would admit, for a split second, that the third designation hurt him like a pin stabbing him in the chest. He felt like a child again, disappointed for seeking his father's approval.

"I see."

"Do not feel obligated to follow me," said Kouen, "you are free to do as you wish. Although, if you wish to be in anyone's service, consider Asta. She needs loyal retainers."

His father made it clear to him that Nohr was not his home if he wanted Kouen to take him on. The only reason he was sent to Corrin to help was because his father wanted to have Grisha close in case Ilya failed.

He had. He was being punished.

"Thank you."

Kouen looked to Melik, who inclined his head, and walked away. Melik approached Ilya warily, as one would a wounded animal, and his stomach twisted into large anxious knots for being perceived as something wild and hurt.

"Your father wanted to give him a tour of the castle," said Melik, reaching to take the soaked handkerchief from his hand. "It sounded boring, so I refused. The truth is, I already know my way around. You showed me. Back when I was ten and you were seven, you wanted to show me the universe. Do you think I made the right decision in not going?"

Ilya lowered his eyes to the bloody handkerchief in Melik's hand. Stay or go. That was what he was asking him.

"My father's tours are boring," he said, the inside of his mouth as sore as the outside. "Save yourself the trouble."

"If you have nowhere to go, Hassah will gladly take you," said Melik, lowering his voice. "In fact, I distinctly recall my mother saying that she would disown me in a heartbeat to take you as a son. You may have nothing, but at the very least, you have my mother's love and that's the envy of all the Hassah. And you heard Kouen, too. He'll take you on if you want and if you don't, there's always Asta. Asta would never turn you away, she's the next best thing after becoming a Hassahan prince."

Ilya snorted, lifting his gaze to Melik's brightened expression. He laughed, the sound rising from deep in the pit of his stomach. This selfish, philandering man was so stupid, but he made him laugh. He supposed he did possess some charm.

"Do you need any help?" asked Melik, once Ilya's laughter subsided. He offered him a clean handkerchief from his pocket, white embroidered with a strange pattern in brown and gold thread. It was a shame to dirty it.

"No," said Ilya, "but you can join me for a drink."

"Fantastic."

Melik followed Ilya's lead back to his favorite sitting room where he kept a bottle of his favorite liquor in a crystal container that blurred the amber contents into an iridescent reflective surface. He imagined they would share a cup or two, drink as much as it would take for the throb of his face to subside.

"Once things are formally settled here, what are Kouen's plans moving forward?" asked Ilya. "Will he travel to Lorah to conquer it or go to Hassah for negotiations?"

"He's ordered your father to take Lorah," said Melik. "Like you expected."

"Of course, Kouen is not the sort of man that would miss the opportunity," responded Ilya, "and my father, what did he say?"

"He asked by when did he want Lorah. Kouen said within two weeks. Lord Roman promised to do it within a week."

Roman and an army of magicians. Lorah didn't stand a chance. With their fate sealed, he hoped that casualties did not mirror those of Baryon and Corrin.

"He doesn't care much for the Byzen Code," Ilya criticized. Once the right amount of money was involved, Roman cared little for restrictions. "If another Tzap Incident occurs, it could very well be this country that sinks."

"And if that is all superstition?"

"Do you honestly believe that? Even for a second when a person like Asta exists?"

"The alternative theory would be that we were all supposed to turn on each other at some point." Melik sighed. "This is insane no matter how we look at it, but at the very least we can say that we spared our two kingdoms a lot of tragedy by entering into peaceful negotiations with the Kou Empire. That and Kouen seems to be a good match for Asta, which is relieving."

"Is he?" questioned Ilya. "How can we be sure that he will not use her for his benefit one day?"

"We don't," answered Melik. "However, I don't think he would ever _use _her, per se. He might ask her for small favors, but it is obvious that he wants to help her…and build her strengths, accept who she is. He is very serious about her. She's his wife. He chose her and he's making himself completely responsible for her, at least until she can walk on her own."

"You appear_ informed_? Did you ask him personally or are you making assumptions?"

"I asked him to his face, of course."

"And his exact words were?"

"I want to help her," repeated Melik, attempting to mimic even the tenor of Kouen's voice. An amusing feat that almost made Ilya laugh, but he resisted.

Ilya shrugged. "He likely hates the thought of being tied down to an idiot."

"Perhaps, he considered her a bit dull at first, but you cannot deny that he likes her."

"You sound confident."

"Oh, he definitely likes her. He gave up two of his Household members to watch over her. That's excessively protective, wouldn't you agree?"

"She is his wife," Ilya replied. "Don't forget that you gave up yours as well, and you only have one. Are you trying to compete with the prince?" Ilya stopped abruptly, rounding on him, the handkerchief covering his nose. "Do not tell me she's the woman you've been in love with all this time? For heaven's sake, Melik, she was a child when you met her!"

Melik laughed in that stupidly dismissive way that he was known for when he slipped into evasive maneuvers. "What are you saying?"

"The entire Byzen Cluster knows that you've been pining after a woman for years, but you've never made your move, instead you've devoted your life to philandering! You went on that adventure outside the Cluster and ran into that weird blond man that tricked you into that dungeon too! I remember, you were running away because Hákon wouldn't let you see Asta!"

Melik appeared taken aback, but tried to laugh it off. "I didn't think you listened to gossip, Ilya."

"Arina told me," he stated, embarrassed for shouting. He composed himself a bit, but he was scandalized. "She only thought to communicate the information to me because your mother was worried about you. She sent me a message, asking if you were with me."

"I'm not in love with Asta," said Melik. "It's more like I want to adopt her and take care of her and keep bad people away from her. That's why I left Baron with her, besides, you're going to be my next Household member, so I'm not that worried about being left without one."

Ilya grimaced, the prickling in his stomach, like an insect at the end of its chrysalis, made him feel uncomfortable. "I will never acknowledge you."

"I have all the time in the world, Ilya."

"You are no longer invited to share a drink with me."

"What? But Ilya—wait!"

Although Ilya hurried away, Melik rushed after him bemoaning his name at the top of his lungs, begging him to reconsider. Ilya planned to stand his ground, but caved when Melik skidded on his knees in front of him before the startled look of many servants, understanding that he would say yes to get out of the humiliating situation.

As always, Melik won.


	44. (14) Quiet Avenger - Pt 3

**QUIET AVENGER **|

{ **i **}

"Commander Lager," breathed Asta, her voice trembling. Her ankle aching from the awkward bend it did when she stepped back, wishing the situation was not the real-life rendition of her worst fears, but the reality was palpable, heavy like two times normal gravity. "You're making a mistake."

"I am honored," he said, making his slow approach towards her, stalking to her like a lioness preparing to rip apart her prey, his hand wrapped around the hilt of his sword.

She heard the metal blade scrape against the inside of its scabbard, the discordant sound of death, looming high above her a mantle of darkness. Her heart in her throat and her stomach in painful knots as she backed into the covered furniture, her skin covered in goose flesh, sweating ice.

She morbidly imagined how easily it would be for him to assassinate her in this small room cramped with furniture. She had nowhere to run or hide.

Einar swung his sword down over her head and by a hair's breadth she sunk to the ground, ducking in time to hear it slam into the wooden crate in front of her, cleaving it down the center. Dust rose from it into a cloud, dissipating like a mist of rain as it fluttered to the ground.

She evaded his next blow the same, narrowly, her lungs burning from the exhaust of scampering around the cramped space.

Sweat dripped from her forehead, her clothes wrinkled and torn in places where they had snagged on the sharp pointed ends of the broken furniture. She had a cut on the back of her hand that stung and another long slash against her thigh, bleeding and splintered.

Asta stared at him from the other side of the room, his expression twisted and his perverse mind the culprit. He read her movements, same as she did his, treating him as she would any wild boar on a rampage, unpredictable.

It took her time to focus her thoughts, but doing so calmed her, though her heart raged and rattled in her chest with terror, she understood that the only way that she was going to get out of this room alive was if she made it to the door.

That was all she needed to do. Her plan was simple. She was being hunted—_toyed_ with—and smart prey could get out of even the most impossible situations. They used their surroundings, adapted, and survived. She didn't plan to be easy prey for Einar.

She finished playing that role for the world, though her body quivered where she stood. Bravery extended only as far as her thoughts.

Einar lunged forward, making an attempt to snatch her from across the distance and items separating them. She moved swiftly, but he managed to grab a fistful of the flimsy silk fabrics of her dress, the tear split loud followed by the crash of his body atop a rickety wooden table and she scrambled away, but tripped over her dragging skirts, falling face flat back where she had begun.

The dust rose like the ashen white figures from her nightmares and danced in swirls around her face, falling into a thin blanket of soft kisses on her skin. A flash of silver caught in her periphery, the cut in her palm ached, and she turned to see the knife she dug free from the couch lying by her shaky legs.

Einar's cold laughter rung like a dissonant opera, his steps heavy on the ground moving toward her again. Two steps and he was near. Three more and he was upon her. She snatched the knife, wrong end first, twisted it just as she turned flat on her back, his sword raised above his head for dramatic flair. The dark smile engulfed his face, distorted it into a monster's visage, lacking in that key emotion that made humans human—empathy.

He pinned her body down with the sole of his boot by the shoulder, crushing it hard until his action elicited a sound of complaint. She let out a low pained noise and that brought the sword down quickly.

Asta jabbed the knife into his leg before the blade came anywhere near her body and he jumped back with a howl of pain followed by a booming expletive directed at her. Resistance infuriated him. He probably expected this to be a simple matter. She was one little girl after all.

She never let go of the knife as she scrambled to her feet, holding it out in front of her, the silver steel shining red with Einar's blood. Her hand shook so hard she heard the bones in her rattling. Panicked thoughts filled her mind. What would she do? What could she do? She was, indeed, underneath it all just one little girl shaking with a bloody knife in her hand.

The adrenaline pumping through her, the ragged breaths she took, and the sturdiness of her stance said otherwise, but mentally, she never prepared for this, for the ease of the knife piercing his skin through his clothes, pushing deep, embedded past bone through thick muscle. The way in which his body lurched backward and his shout filled the silence halted the slow motion that she briefly experienced and restored time. It happened quickly.

Einar came at her faster than she had the time to react, flinching and bringing her arms up over her face as if they could protect her from a sword. She braced for impact, prepared for the steel to bite into her skin as it had when she caught Egil's blade, only she expected it to hurt more. Her body warmed, as if there was something whirling around her before being drained from her.

His weapon struck something hard, a hollow afterthought of the impact reached her ears. She opened her eyes as the fading golden sphere around her dematerialized and it frightened her.

In his fury, Einar grabbed her forcibly, crushing her wrist until she released the hold on the knife and he threw her back into a pile of broken crates and the stuffing gutted from the furniture. All of the sharp corners left scratches on her, tore further at the flimsy fabrics of her dress, and her back hit the ground hard, her head knocking against the floor leaving a dull ache in the back of it.

There was a dark interest in Einar's gaze as he lumbered forward, allowing his sword to scrape against the ground trailing behind him. She pushed her body back over the rubble, knowing that the door was at her back, but he quickened. When he was near enough she kicked him hard in the leg, managing to pinpoint the wound she left him, and as he sank down into his knee from the impact, she twisted around, getting back on her feet.

She sprinted the short distance to door, unlocked it, and pulled open the door, the strength and coordination behind each movement foreign to her. She rushed out, but Einar composed himself quickly, chasing her with a strange desperation that perturbed her more than knowing he wanted her dead.

Asta screamed. Shouted the names of every guard that came to mind, called for Bo or any of her attendants, before Einar tackled her to the ground. She continued to fight as the weight of his body threatened to crush her. She thrashed, kicked, twisted around and hit him with her fisted hands, but his laughter rang coldly in the empty hallway, the air chilling, raising the hairs in the back of her neck. He caught her small hands and pinned them with ease. He straddled her, keeping her in place, and silenced her with the sharp end of a small dagger, pointing it to her neck.

She went rigid. The slightest movement meant the end. The only reason she still lived was the curiosity burning in his eyes.

"You're a magician," he said, grinning from ear-to-ear, savoring that morsel of information. "That's what it was, wasn't it? Why Slimy Bengt hated you? Why you've been giving Freja's assassins a hard time? It's almost a shame to kill you, you're rare."

The point of the dagger pierced her skin when a flash of light blinded her and a zigzagging ball of electricity blasted through Einar, the arc of blood that sprayed caught her full on, thick and grimy across her face sinking into her clothes like an unneeded weight. The remaining half of his body slumped over, falling with a disgusting _splat_. She stared at it, unable to move away, her vision hazy, blurring with a sheen of tears, and bile rose to her mouth. She bent forward away from her skirts and emptied her stomach, the burning leaving her throat raw, the aftertaste made her more nauseous. She jolted at the sound of her name, wiping her mouth, hot with embarrassment.

Bo appeared in her periphery, tucking a small jewel encrusted wand into one of her flowing sleeves, and hoisted her back on her feet. She turned her around, taking her by the face, forcing her to look into her narrow black eyes, her eyebrows drawn with consternation.

"Princess," she breathed, as if she were expelling a sigh of relief. She patted her blood-stained face, searching her for any wounds, finding scratches and fright. "Are you okay? Are you—?"

Asta threw her arms around her, holding her caretaker close and startling herself with the loud sob that escaped her. Bo embraced her, cradling the back of her head and repeated to her ear, over and again, whispering as the hot tears rushed down Asta's cheeks, "You're safe now."

It didn't take long for the news about Einar's to spread in the castle. Koumei increased security around her and sat with her, searching her face for a notion he had only formed in his mind, assuring her that the speech would be postponed until she felt comfortable delivering it. She didn't have the courage to admit that the reason she had been cornered was because she had wanted to run away from that responsibility in the first place.

She slept for days after the incident, revisiting Einar's attack and death in her dreams until sleeping no longer provided the comfort she sought. Bo often stayed up with her, flipping silently through a thick black tome with crinkly pages in front of the fireplace.

"You're a magician," said Asta, one night after restlessly turning in bed, aching for a distraction. She wondered if Kouen had been told about the incident. She felt embarrassed to think that he had been and that he might be disappointed by how she remained an easy target for her enemies. Her inadequacy continued to grow. She did not.

"I am," answered Bo.

She sat up, looking to Bo sleepily from where the older woman sat lounging in a comfortable chair with a blanket draped over her lap, the same book in her hands. Bo had been assigned to her specifically by the empress of the Kou Empire, to be molded into a princess suited for the First Prince, but the recent string of revelations made her wonder if there was more to it.

"The empress assigned you to me for a reason, didn't she?" asked Asta, her heart hammering in trepidation. "She knew what I am."

"Yes and no," said Bo, snapping her book shut and redirecting her stare at her. "Most everyone assigned to work under a princess or prince has some form of training. There are magicians and there are soldiers. It's a precaution. The royal line must be protected at all times. She simply wanted you to serve your purpose. If you died, our prince wasted his time married to you."

Asta accepted the response in silence.

"As for what you are, I do not think there is anyone that does," said Bo, but Asta thought of Maeve, who probably had answers that nobody else possessed. "The rukh cling to you. They behave as if they are in love with you. It is odd to see in someone that appears to be an ordinary magician. I've only seen rukh act strangely with magi, but I know for certain that you are not one."

"Has Kouen said anything about me?" she asked curiously.

"Only that you appear to have an aptitude for Clairvoyance Magic," she answered simply, revealing nothing in her voice. "You speak to the dead, but the dead do not speak, not really, once a person passes away they return to the Great Flow, which means that even though the people that you see take on appearances and characteristics that you recognize, they are a manifestation of the rukh that either you or they are creating. You know things because the rukh communicate with you."

"But my mother, she—"

Asta dropped her gaze to her lap, folding her legs up and wrapping her arms around them as she leaned forward, her throat gone dry.

"Princess, the day your father trusted me to do right by you, he told me that you were special. He claimed you were a magician, though he suspected that you had no real aptitude for magic since you never manifested a borg."

Taken aback, she asked shakily, "A borg?"

"A magical barrier," explained Bo. "It defends against most physical and magical attacks. It uses magoi to cover a magician's surroundings, you're enveloped in a sort of sphere."

Asta started to recall the sphere of light that enveloped her when she feared Einar would kill her, but his weapon hit the surface of a translucent wall around her before it faded away.

"Oh," she responded absently.

"Your mother was sick, but you are not your mother," continued Bo. "You possess a gift. We may not know where you rank as a magician, but what you can do is very real. I think that knowing that you have it makes you all the more dangerous to Freja."

Asta raised her eyes, her vision a little clouded, chest tight. "How would she know?"

"Because Bengt knows."

She almost repeated her question, but understood that Bengt's violence had begun after he had been hurled into a wall when he tried to hurt her and her mother. He treated her horribly, frightened her to death with his threats, but he had done it with a twisted, scared expression of his own, badmouthing her as if he were doing the world a favor in hurting her.

"I see."

"No, I don't think you do," stated Bo in a tone that made Asta's heart squeeze in despair. "You've been utterly useless since I've met you. No proper lady's training, a list of skills that you've left to gather dust, a gift that you've never honed—at the rate that things are going, you're not making a great case for yourself as a future ruler. You are targeted left and right, all you're going to amount to is a weakness of a future emperor that any old fool can exploit—"

"I'm trying!"

"No, you're not, you're flopping around like a fish out of water!" snapped Bo, silencing her. "You have moments in which you have displayed great strength, but you shrink back as soon as the situation is done and it becomes impossible to revitalize your confidence!"

Her cheeks were hot and wet, her heart sunken to the pit of her stomach, somewhere beyond the hope for recovery. "What should I be doing?" she demanded, exasperated. "What do you suggest I do?"

"Start hunting again."

"Y-You said that wasn't ladylike," sputtered Asta, completely confused, "that it was a useless skill to have because I wouldn't need it! According to you I was only supposed to become a perfect wife to Kouen, to provide him an heir, and never shame him! T-That's what you've said—"

Bo _tsk_ed, moving away from her seat with her arms folded across her chest, a prim expression on her face.

"B-But you said!"

"I did, I won't deny it," stated Bo, "but I didn't think you'd take it to heart. I certainly believed with your rebellious streak that you'd simply continue doing it all behind my back. Of course, I never realized that you stopped hunting quite some time ago."

"Do you want me to do things behind your back? Is that it?"

"You can't now, I'll know, you've just declared it!"

"I wasn't going to try it!"

"That doesn't matter," said Bo. "Focus on the things that you want and strive to attain them. Use what you have in your possession. You hunted, know how to use a bow and arrow, quite possibly a dagger too, the rukh communicate with you, what little magic you can use is useful magic, learn to use it, really learn to use it. There's a brain in your head and I would like to believe that it's good for more than just to think about the long list of attractive men you've encountered your entire life. Next time you have the courage to declare that you're going to do something, do it. Set your mind to it, don't be afraid."

With a great huff, Bo straightened out her wrinkled robes and excused herself, saying that she would be going out to get a drink of water. Asta remained in bed dumbfounded, or rather profoundly shocked by Bo.

Yes. A lot of what Bo said was true. She had her moments, adrenaline pumping through her, fueling her sudden impulse to make a difference, but with time, she allowed herself to cool off, reverting to the small girl inside of her that feared everything.

Asta sank back into her bed, reaching to grab a hold of a pillow, hugging it close, feeling thoroughly scolded.

{ **ii** }

Koumei was incredibly patient as he walked her through the inner dynamics of warfare. He appeared better equipped at teaching her than many of her previous instructors. He made things interesting, she supposed, or perhaps it was the ease in which he spoke about things—the strategic aspect of them that was so eloquent and intelligent that she was simply captivated by him.

She didn't know what the trick was only that it worked. She understood what Kouen meant when he said that she had a lot to learn from Koumei. She did. It became evident from the get-go. She liked him too, felt he was heaven sent, because for the longest time she had no idea what she was doing. She wanted to rule a country, but knew next to nothing on how to actually run it. Koumei was teaching her everything she needed to know.

In a short amount of time, he instilled in her the confidence that if she ever had a question, he always had an answer.

They were going about it step by step and in between lessons she asked about war strategies, which led to their current discussion on the fundamentals of warfare. He said that if she wanted to properly analyze a situation, she needed to understand the subject. He told her a lot of stories about how the Kou Empire came to be. It used to be a small kingdom in the far east until the First Emperor unified two neighboring kingdoms, Kai and Gou, into the Kou Empire, taking from the experience that through becoming one nation they could spread peace.

This idea seemed to have become the model for the Kou Empire's, or rather Kouen's, plan for the rest of the world. Kouen hoped to conquer it in order to eliminate conflict and spread peace. It was a good dream, something desirable.

Asta stood beside Koumei in her mother's library after he finished telling her all of that, seeming proud of his elder brother's efforts.

Asta held a book in her arms that he suggested should be an interesting read for her, even though she normally avoided the books in her mother's library because she didn't want to put the book back on a shelf where it didn't belong. Koumei did away with that fear. It shocked her a little at first, but she grew accustomed to the disarray. There appeared to be a method to Koumei's madness. It looked disorganized, but he seemed to know where everything was, the things he wanted and those he needed.

"Why is it necessary to conquer?" asked Asta.

Koumei turned to her, slanted pink eyes alight with curiosity. "Not all kingdoms in this world will see our vision for what it is—a promise. They will fight back, making negotiations a waste."

"With good reason," she said, "there are kingdoms spread across the world that are older than yours."

"We don't deny their reasons are good. It's perfectly natural for them to defend what is theirs, however, many of the kingdoms they're so adamant to keep were founded by stealing and fighting over lands that belonged to other countries. How was Ione founded? How did the Io family come into power? We are doing nothing different. We are only offering fewer choices."

Submit or fight.

"If negotiations are possible, we have talks. We give whatever they want and whatever it is they usually request we have in excess. Negotiations are ideal. They're cleaner. Easily settled. To think that they're going to be possible in every interaction our country has is very naïve."

"Your methods are very gray."

"I agree, but we will do what needs to be done to accomplish our goals."

Asta relaxed, leaning against one of the emptied-out shelves. "You should catch up on your sleep."

Koumei smiled lightly, then moved away from her quick, he rushed up the stairs to rummage through the scrolls, notes, and open letters scattered among short book towers he stacked. He dropped a few things in his search, a canister of quills that clattered loudly, several sheets of paper, some of which floated off the second level's landing and daintily descended onto the ground taking their time.

He returned a few minutes later with a messily scrawled note. "A message."

Asta looked down at it curiously, but turned it to the side, unsure of what it said. "From? Oh, Kouen." She was able to make out his name in the paper and took her time to read the rest. Her heart jumped. "Lorah refused negotiations? Nohr is going to subjugate them? What were the terms?"

She worried for Lorah. They weren't a military strong country. Their army's commander was nine. Their prince was young. She wanted to think that Nohr, being a part of the Cluster, would take care of things quickly with the least amount of violence. However, she was aware that King Roman was a tough man and a brilliant magician with an artful appreciation of warfare. He could very well do what her father did to Corrin to Lorah.

Koumei answered the question. Nohr wanted money. Roman also wanted full command of his country's magical academy as well.

"He _disowned _Ilya?"

"It would appear so. My brother will be traveling to Hassah to settle negotiations with its queen before returning."

She didn't pretend to understand Ilya's relationship with his family. She recalled only one interaction that he had with his mother and it was a long time ago, in the last Byzen Festival, when he had called everyone unworthy of their crowns for choosing to ignore Queen Aquila's death. His soft-spoken mother loved him. It was clear to her that she did, but she let him be independent, move as he wanted throughout the festival. They spent little time together during it.

She couldn't imagine Ilya's reaction, but it must have been awful.

Weeks had elapsed since she had promised her people a speech, though after the incident with Einar, people were careful about bringing it up. She appreciated the space that was provided for her to use and heal from the shock, but the time served as yet another reminder of her weakness. She devoted a lot of hours with Koumei in the hopes of making up for it, but it gave her little comfort.

Receiving this message, hearing how much Kouen accomplished since they parted ways. Negotiations with Nohr done, Lorah's fate decided, and moving onto Hassah, reminded her that her own country was gearing up for a civil war while she was in hiding. There was more soldier presence out on the streets, more rumors whispering from Astoria to the furthest reaches of the Nyström Province, and the people were restless. Koumei was doing his part by keeping a close eye on the Ionian House's remaining members and organizing search parties to hunt Freja down, imprisoning any of her supporters.

"I think I'm ready to address the people of Ione," said Asta, recalling Bo's criticism from earlier. She let the words fall from her mouth with the ease confidence seemed to command and solidified her commitment to doing them. "It's the only way we'll be able to draw Freja out."

"Are you sure you are okay to speak?" asked Koumei. "We have plenty of time to spare if you don't feel up to the task yet. There's no need for you to rush."

"Yes," she affirmed. "I won't allow Freja to think she has any hope in taking this country from me."

She suspected that she asked a lot from herself, but she remembered the first day her father took her hunting. They were stalking a trio of turkeys through the forest. The trees were a deep rich brown color, but their leaves were a bright orange, like the sun had set upon the earth to spread its luminescent descend upon the world, and falling off the brittle branches that held them, scattering across the ground. They wore matching scarves, red ones, tied neatly around their necks and woolen jackets to shield them from the autumn's cool winds. He talked her through nocking an arrow in a small bow she picked out of the castle's armory because all of the tiny scratches on its wooden surface drew her eye to the history, how much it must have endured in its previous owner's hands and the many adventures they might have undertaken together.

Pulling back the bowstring hurt the tips of her fingers through her leather gloves. It was unyielding to her efforts and hard to keep back, as far as it needed to be, without her losing her grip and the arrow falling from its position. The turkeys were pecking the ground around the same batch of fallen leaves at a perfect distance and the time to strike one down was perfect, but Asta continued to make these little mistakes, like not minding her step or having trouble with her weapon that she was growing frustrated, desperate to do something that would impress her father.

She heard the _swish _of an arrow rip through the air and strike one turkey down, alerting the other two, who fled screeching noisily until their voices faded in the distance. She looked up at her father as he lowered his bow.

"Risks are necessary," he said, ice-blue eyes focused, searching the area within his line of sight for any disturbance in nature. "Take risks, Asta. Frightened as you will be when you are faced with the option of taking one, you should go beyond that fear to accomplish what you need, what you want. Sometimes you'll fall flat on your face, humiliate yourself. Sometimes you'll lose something, something that isn't tangible, but you've sacrificed it for something needed, more important, you took the risk. Whether that is winning or losing—doesn't matter." He exhaled, his entire body relaxing. "Now, Asta, where do you suppose the other two went?"

Speaking was a risk. Challenging Freja was a risk. Scary risks.

She wouldn't be afraid. She couldn't let herself. Not anymore.

"Understood," said Koumei. "I'll confirm with Miss Strand about moving forward with the presentation."

Bo came around moments later to be informed of her decision and to take Asta away, complaining about her rowdy foreigner friends making a ruckus at the front gate with her soldiers. She ran off ahead of Bo, past Seishuu, who was on rotation that evening. Seishuu sped after her, but he cursed upon seeing Christin in front of the castle's main entrance. Christin brightened and bounced over to him, throwing her arms around him as he tried to run away.

Agnes and Carina entered laughing, the mirth carrying over from whatever conversation they had been having on their walk there.

"You lot better stay in one place," shouted Bo from the second landing. "Seishuu, keep an eye on them!"

"I don't take orders from you!" barked Seishuu.

"But you take orders from your king," stated Bo. "Would you like him to know how badly you failed him?"

Seishuu glared at her.

Agnes made an "o" sign with her thumb and forefinger, her other three fingers up in the air. "Got it, Lady Bo. We'll take good care of your little princess."

Bo turned away, nose up in the air, and walked, abandoning the railing upstairs.

Carina and Agnes giggled as Asta joined them, curious about where they had come from, knowing that if they were emerging from the outdoor barracks they would've entered from one of the service entrances on the west side of the castle. Her eyes were trained on a pink box in Carina's hands, one that she presented to her.

"Lady Bo banned us from throwing you an actual surprise party for your birthday," started Carina, and Asta swelled with happiness, "but it's not every day a person turns eighteen, right?"

"Which reminds me," Agnes started, looking around curiously, "where's Prince Baron?" When nobody had an answer, she decided, "I'll go look for him."

Agnes flipped her light pink hair off her shoulder, her heeled boots clicking on the floor as she walked away, and it swished back and forth across her back.

Asta almost felt bad about undoing the neat bow tied atop the pink box, but she opened it to see a beautiful array of cupcakes with different colored frosting. She looked up at Carina, grateful, and proceeded to thank her. She wasn't celebrated on her birthday after what occurred. It didn't seem safe to invite guests over and the day went on quietly, though the cooks did prepare all of her favorite dishes and baked her a blueberry cake.

She was promised an actual celebration once things settled. She didn't mind waiting.

{ **iii** }

Cilla accompanied Asta to Astoria two days before her speech, arrangements were made for her to stay in a private house owned by the royal family. Initial preparations for the speech were halted after her run-in with Einar, so there weren't many things left over in need of completion, making things quicker the second time around. Cilla handled her itinerary for the event and managed gathering a crowd in the capital. The streets were teeming with people, the marketplace full of merchants hoping to make a profit out of the crowds, and whispers permeating throughout Astoria wondering if Asta planned to show up.

The private house wasn't a palace. It was a modest two-story adobe located in a neighborhood appearing as innocuous as the other neatly aligned houses. It was managed by a young housekeeper named Bjorn Stenger, who dressed in a uniformed high-collard dress on a daily basis and wore her light brown hair pinned back into a low hanging bun over the nape of her neck. Her family had long before been entrusted with the task, the duty was an inheritance.

Although, Asta had never found opportunity to stay in the private house, there was a time when Werner had taken her there and she'd become acquainted with Bjorn during the time when her grandmother was in charge. They were only there briefly.

The house opened into a narrow hallway that revealed an open-aired sitting room. A dining room was located behind the longest comfortable sofa and a kitchen sat through an entrance past a rectangular table that sat six holding a bowl toppled with a fresh fruit arrangement in the center. The house itself smelled of flowers and its pale walls were enhanced by the vibrant floral vases strategically placed around the area to strategically catch the eye. At the end of the hallway, there were stairs and on the second floor, there was a master bedroom and three guest rooms. There was a fourth room downstairs, sitting adjacent to the kitchen that belonged to Bjorn.

Bjorn greeted her with a deep bow in front of the staircase.

Vilhelm shut the door after entering, everyone that needed to be in the house was. Asta wasn't allowed to bring too many people with her because it would call attention. Cilla accompanied her because she needed to know her location as the coordinator of the event. Vilhelm won the poker game that decided which member of the Castle Guard would join her, though there was a lot of dispute that he cheated. Bo sent Fu to be her eyes and ears. That was everyone.

Koumei asked Seishuu and Gaku to be present for the presentation, but not before. He thought they would be too noticeable. Seishuu protested as he tended to do, but ultimately conceded.

Cilla left once she made certain that Asta properly settled into the house, complaining about its quaint size. "You should never stay anywhere less than a palace, this is an insult," she stated disdainfully, hands planted on her hips "You deserve better than a house in this dumpy neighborhood."

"I don't mind it," laughed Asta.

A huff and a tight hug later and the noblewoman was gone.

Vilhelm walked past her on his way, leaving her plenty of room. He courteously gestured towards the door, signaling to Asta if it was okay to close it. She nodded. He shut the door of her bedroom.

"She hit on me earlier," he said with a frown.

"Well, Cilla is a beautiful woman and you've attracted her attention," responded Asta.

"That doesn't matter, it made me uncomfortable," he told her, "she could be a goddess and it wouldn't make a difference. I didn't like the attention, so I told her not to leer at me again. You can imagine she was offended. I thought she might have communicated the exchange to you."

Drawing her eyebrows together, Asta leaned forward in her seat on the edge of the bed. "When did this happen?"

"Before we left the castle."

"I see, I'm sorry she made you uncomfortable," she said softly. "Thank you for telling me. If you are not comfortable with her, I can have Caj Öman take her place. I know that he's in the capital."

Vilhelm shook his head. "No, that's okay. Rather, I appreciate that you would go to such lengths for me. I'm a soldier—a man, too."

"Forget that," said Asta, leaving her seat. "You have every right to complain if someone makes you feel uncomfortable. You're important to me, so I will always listen and try to accommodate you."

A knock quieted their exchange and Fu entered after Asta called for her to do so. Fu stopped beside Vilhelm, standing a whole head shorter than the soldier with her bone-straight brown hair tied into a neat braid down her back, her black eyes shining. She appeared disgruntled.

"Is something wrong, Fu?" asked Asta curiously. Fu reminded her the most of Bo, picking up her strict habits of doing things, but she was less vocal. Her body language almost always gave away her disappointment or frustration and she appeared unbelievably tense.

"Miss Bjorn insists on treating me like a guest," answered Fu. "I have expressed to her that I am your majesty's attendant and that my duty includes ensuring that all of your needs are accounted for, but she responded that while we are under this roof that she would be responsible for all of _our _needs."

"Why don't you accept the hospitality?" questioned Vilhelm at ease. "Consider it a vacation."

"We do not take vacations!" snarled Fu, insulted by the thought.

"I'll talk to her about sharing the work," decided Asta, content in keeping her mind off the chocking anxiety she had concerning the speech.

She left the room as Vilhelm and Fu dissolved into a verbal conflict, arguing to Vilhelm that he was a laze, thus would not know a thing about hard work, and Fu, who needed to find the time to relax before she turned to stone from the tension in her muscles. She didn't take kindly to that insult.

Bjorn stood at the entrance, attempting to shut the door, but her arms were shaking as if someone was putting up some resistance. There were rushed quiet whispers and the threat of making a commotion reached her ears, ringing as if it were a threat against her own person.

"Bjorn, let them pass," she ordered.

The young housekeeper stepped back, releasing her hold on the door and allowing the person resisting behind it to spill onto the wooden floor. Her hair cut short into a bob, a brilliant shade of reddish brown. She nearly gasped, her body moving to reach Brita's fallen form automatically, but a hand clasped her upper arm and drew her back. She turned abruptly to catch a glimpse of Vilhelm before he pushed her back behind him into Fu's arms. He drew a hidden dagger from his belt.

Asta jerked out of Fu's grasp and grabbed Vilhelm's dominant hand before he reached down to hoist Brita by the arm. Her ex-attendant cowered, raising her arms to shield herself.

"Vilhelm, stop!"

"Princess, no!" cried Fu, taking her by both arms.

"She's a fugitive!" snapped Vilhelm, pulling his hand away from Asta's hold. "Shut the door, Miss Stenger."

Bjorn did as Vilhelm asked, going as far as locking it and pressing her back against it. One look at her darkened expression assured them all that she would not be moved.

Asta stopped fighting because Brita being labeled a fugitive startled her. "What are you talking about?"

"You don't know the full story!"

"Chuu'un arrested her alongside Kay Åkerman—"

"It was a mistake!"

"—in a warehouse where Freja and Bengt were hosting one of their hate—"

"Lord Åkerman forced me to accompany him!"

"—campaigns! She tried to escape, relay a message to another of Freja's—"

"I didn't have a choice! He forced me!"

"Enough!" shouted Asta, her voice steady and imbued with frustration. She picked up a few words here and there, but their yelling made it impossible to hear what was being said. From what she did, she understood that Brita had been captured with Kay, but escaped. "Get away from her, Vilhelm!"

"Your majesty, this is not a good idea," said Fu. "That woman is a known traitor. She was tried and sentenced to death, but she escaped the dungeons the day before the execution."

"Who testified?" asked Asta, searching Brita's frightened face for answers. When anyone other than Brita attempted to speak, she raised her hand to silence them.

"I-It was in my understanding that Lord Åkerman did," stammered Brita, rising to her feet, legs shaky under the weight of her body. "He claimed I was one of Freja's spies."

"Is this true, Vilhelm?"

"Yes."

"Any other witnesses?"

"A number of our staffers linked her to Johan Ek," said Fu, and at Asta's shocked reaction, she added, "New evidence against him came out these last few weeks. It is no longer disputed that he was not a traitor. He worked for Freja."

"What kind of evidence?" demanded Asta, her heart sunken.

"Forgive me, princess, but I cannot answer that question."

"You can't or won't?"

"I won't."

That annoyed her.

"What sort of connection did the staff establish between her and Johan? How concrete was it? Was it because they were seen together all around the castle?"

Vilhelm and Fu nodded.

"It was suspicious."

"I used to beg Brita to be our messenger," said Asta.

"She disapproved of your relationship with Johan Ek," reminded Vilhelm. "She wouldn't have—"

"But she never denied me anything." Asta stood her ground. "Those witnesses were wrong. The only information they exchanged were times for Johan to meet me at night."

"Princess—"

"Tell me what happened Brita."

Brita's hazel eyes were glazed with tears. "I wanted no part in this," she started, running through her words. "I just worked for Lord Åkerman. I did everything he asked, _everything_. I didn't have a choice. He was sick. A horrible human being. He _forced _himself on me, said he would make my life easier. I couldn't say no. He said he'd report me, say I was a thief. The laws aren't kind to thieves. I didn't know what to do, I didn't have anywhere to go, but I tried to stop him, stop him because I knew things about him, that he and Freja were in business. I didn't know what it was. I swear to you, princess, on my life that he took me with him to be his scapegoat. It all backfired."

She couldn't stand watching Brita cry and walked towards her, reaching to wipe the tears from her left cheek. Brita surprised her when she wrapped her arms around her, breaking down, her sobs reverberated through Asta's own body, shattering her like glass.

Asta needed to protect her people. She couldn't be the person she needed to be if she couldn't do that. Though she practically glowed with happiness knowing that Brita was safe and that she could have her back inside the castle as yet another confidant. She imagined she would get along with Agnes and Christin. The others would take time, but they would see she was innocent and apologize, welcome her back into the fold.

However, as she pulled away from Brita's hold, she made eye contact with Vilhelm. "I want her story thoroughly checked. If Kay simply used her to satisfy his own vile desires and left her to rot, I want to know." She turned back to Brita. "You will be under heavy surveillance until your story checks out. You'll forgive me for the mistrust, I would happily take you in no questions asked—I know you—but Lady Bo would be furious."

Brita shook her head, taking both of her hands into her own. "It's perfectly understandable. Thank you, thank you taking this risk for me."

She felt her skin pinprick with the cold.

"I think it's suspicious you found the princess in this place," stated Fu, unsatisfied.

"I heard about the speech," said Brita seriously. "It took everything I had to make it this far, but I did and I waited in this block. I know all of the locations that the royal family frequented, it was my job to know where Asta would stay if she was to remain a day or two shopping in the capital. I was her attendant long before you or your nine companions replaced me."

The tension held between the two women's stares was tangible, expanding like a sponge absorbing too much water, squeeze and it'll spill out everywhere.

Asta asked Bjorn to take Brita to the castle. She wrote a letter complete with her family seal to ensure its validity, expressing that she wanted Brita's story to be checked and for her to be accommodated in any room Lady Bo deemed appropriate. Brita was to be treated as her guest unless it could be proven that she was a liar.

Brita thanked her several times over, kissing her cheeks with affection, before leaving the house with Bjorn.

By nightfall, a raven delivered a message from the castle, assuring her that Brita arrived in one piece with Bjorn.

However, Bjorn never returned to the house.

{ **iv **}

Cilla returned in the morning before the presentation. She went down a list of things Asta needed to remember while she was on the stage, mainly her composure.

She had practiced her memorized speech with Fu or Vilhelm when time allowed, forgetting fewer and fewer words until she recited it completely, taking all of the necessary and natural pauses it required. She had ordered a group of soldiers to find Bjorn, but heard back no news, leaving her worried, growing more anxious by the hour.

"Are you ready to go, princess?" asked Cilla.

She nodded. She wanted to get it done. Shake what few followers Freja managed to gather through Bengt's famous smear campaigns.

The angle Koumei wanted to explore in the speech was not one they one hundred percent agreed on, rather it was something that, in theory, should appeal to the restless Ionian denizens, who suffered strife and humiliation to fund an army they were convinced they never needed. That was the angle. The army, their history, and their origins.

War was the appeal. The Kou Empire would be the foundation in which it would all come together. That was the speech. Her travels, the conquests, and the Byzen Cluster all had a place in it. Bengt and Freja, their followers, even the ones that'll be hidden in the crowd listening to her, and their plans, unorganized with only a single common factor, Lady Tjäder as queen.

She would tear any hope she had in ruling by comparing her to her ambitious father, except without the intelligence to carry it out properly. That would draw Freja's attention. If she insulted her enough without outwardly calling her names, she'd be more likely to crack and emerge from wherever she was hiding.

Upon climbing the steps to a stage constructed in one of Astoria's largest plazas, Asta's throat dried up. She was joined by Kouen's and Koumei's Household members among a startling amount of security. There were people crowded, teeming like ants overflowing an anthill, spread out as far as her eyes could see, some squeezed into the streets surrounding the plaza. She never expected so many, but of course it was silly not to. Ione had many citizens. She imagined at least half the population was present, the other half spared themselves the trouble of the crowd—supporting her enemies or simply uninterested in their futures, preferring the ignorance of the unknown.

Her voice would be projected through Clairvoyance Magic, loud enough for every man, woman, and child present. It would travel great distances, from the hidden villages in the Hult Forests to the ends of the Nyström Province where the ruins of a city carried the Torran language Kouen was so eager to read. Even those that refused to attend, couldn't appear, or were simply unaware would hear her voice, speaking clearly, the same way she heard her father's ringing laughter as she planted her feet center stage, the skirts of her flowing dress billowing slightly in the breezy morning.

Just talk. That was her only instruction going in. The magicians will do the rest.

And she did. Talk.

"H-Hello," she said, startled instantly by the echo of her voice rippling through the crowd, eyes surveying, looking around and up in search of the instruments making it possible for them to hear and experience the sound, small and insecure, voice. Fu nodded to her when she searched for her pale face among the familiar people standing around the edges of the stage, silently wishing for the best.

Be firm and confident. Tiny golden birds, like those she saw so often flock to her or Kouen disappeared from sight above the multitude of blond heads.

"I come before you humbled—not a princess, but a woman, a daughter, a sister—to plead to you, my citizens, my comrades, you who have rooted for me from my very first breath," she began, all eyes, of every shape and hue, locked on her. This was it. This was her home. These were her people. "I ask of you, a rather selfish request that I never have before bothered to acknowledge, but I know, with the time that stretched between us, that I am as much a stranger as say the person next to you or behind you or several feet away from you. I cannot demand from you, so I have come to ask, ask you to listen."

She paused to surprising effect, a rumble of voices rose from the epicenter of the crowd and shook through the rest, another voice adding another dynamic, filling her ears with, perhaps curiosity or true loyalty, "We will listen."

Her heart swelled and she continued, "I understand that I have betrayed you all for marrying Kouen Ren of the Kou Empire, that I have stolen your peace of mind by allowing his soldiers to invade our country, and neglected you by leaving Ione." The voices rose with indignation. She nodded. "I did leave. I won't deny that fact from Lady Tjäder and Bengt Ayr's campaigns—you might have heard it in passing or perhaps, you attended once. They spoke truths, but not all. I have come here to tell you the truth.

"I did not choose my circumstances, they chose me." Memorize all the facts and improvise, Koumei had told her, En says you have a talent for addressing people. Appeal to them as you would under the conditions. "However, none of this means we have lost. We haven't lost anything. We have gained stability and doubled—no, tripled—our military might. We are first and foremost warriors, our history is that of conquest, and our goal, Io's goal, was that of attaining formidable strength so that no one would ever come for our kingdom."

Uneasiness reverberated back to her. Stay calm. You can do this. You have it.

"My father tried to go back to Io's teachings. He wanted us to become a big nation, feared throughout the world. He went about it the wrong way. He depleted our country until it had nothing more to give, but he boasted our army's strength—our numbers swelled and our soldiers are unrivaled. The day he left this world, he left us with this army and an alliance to the Kou Empire.

"The Kou Empire is a militant country that strives for unity and seeks power for the sake of peace. Was that not what Io wanted? Centuries have passed since the Io family was established as royalty. There are years in between that have forced us to adapt to new situations and that was when we lost our way, but we have a new opportunity to shine alongside the Kou Empire. They are not our enemies. We will not be their servants; we would be its citizens to be treated as a part of their country. We are their equals. We lose nothing, but we gain powerful allies.

"To regain the peace that we lost, we need to join them and unify the Byzen Cluster under the Kou Empire's emperor and strive to spread their influence as far as the rest of the world. Nothing will change, I will never stop protecting the Byzen Cluster and for that reason, I left Ione. I went to put a stop to my father's aggressive methods to open negotiations with the other Cluster kingdoms.

"Hassah and Nohr have conceded without war. Baryon and Corrin were not quite as fortunate and the ramifications of those wars are in the process of being resolved. My father did terrible things to the royal families, killed the kings and sold the princesses, but through the Kou Empire, I am searching for them. I won't stop until they are located and brought back to their respective kingdoms.

"Lady Tjäder doesn't understand the Kou Empire's intentions. She doesn't care about them. She cares only about her ambition and her only goal is to be queen. She spews lies about restoring our country to its former glory, before my father took control and ruined us, but she doesn't know what made Ione great. She preaches that she cares about the people, but when has she ever given you the opportunity to speak. How could she be the better option when she enlists the help of Bengt Ayr?

"He served my father faithfully. He serves power faithfully and anyone he deems weak, he tramples over. I was not worthy in his eyes and the bruises he claimed were the product of my husband were given to me by him. My husband would never put his hands on me, would never hurt me, he would protect me and that's why he surrounds me with his most trusted soldiers, but Bengt is an animal, a beast that cares only about his own survival. He is vile, an abuser, and Freja is no different."

Anger swelled inside of her as she recalled all the moments in which Bengt put his hands on her. This had not been a part of the plan, but it has come out. It felt like shedding a weight she didn't know she had been carrying.

The people were aghast, murmuring about it in a low rumble that shook the ground.

"Did Lady Tjäder care to mention why she lost her position? Does she claim I was brainwashed to get rid of her? I wasn't. She, too, lost her right to everything when she put her hands on me. These two individuals wish to claim leadership over you, but they hold no ounce of respect for me, a human being, like you. They are aggressive, monstrous people that would hurt others for disagreeing with them. They're hateful enough that after taking over Ione, it would not be enough for them so they'd choose to spread their tyranny everywhere else. By allowing them to run around free, we are inviting another rule like my father's.

"I implore you to help me. Remain faithful to me, ease into the transition that is to come, become a part of the Kou Empire. Do not incite more chaos by joining Freja and Bengt. I implore you that if you find them, report them. If anyone is trying to disrupt the peace that I'm trying to return to this country, report them. If there is treason against the royal family, report it. Help me and I will give you a country where you will never feel endangered."

The positive roar of the crowd filled her with relief.

She did it.

Asta raised her hand, smiling, and waving, looking around at all the faces when one in particular made her heart jump. An older woman, squat, standing around several others with wild black hair. The golden birds surrounded her, moving in circles as if beckoning her.

The older woman started to move, pressing into the crowd, leaving. Asta, unable to stop herself, without a thought in her mind but the notion that she needed to speak with this woman, moved towards her, taking the stairs that she climbed to stand upon the stage. Fu and Vilhelm followed as far as they could, but Asta allowed the crowd to swallow her in her pursuit.

A swell of voices rang in her ears of people hyper aware of what had occurred. There were hands all around her, of those that witnessed the moment she moved slowly, but hurriedly through the throng of citizens, that reached out, touching her shoulders and arms, as if to determine that she was real, and caressing her nearly plaited hair like mothers praising a child. She momentarily lost sight of the bedraggled woman, but in the midst of parting crowds, uproar rising behind her, she knew she didn't need to see her because in her ear, a soft voice whispered instruction.

_"Follow the charms through the Hult Forest. She will wait."_


	45. (14) Quiet Avenger - Pt 4

**QUIET AVENGER **| BRITA GRAHN

| **i **|

_"What is your favorite color?" asked Johan, the heavy footfalls of his boots filled the space. He exited through one arched entrance and entered through another, moving along the walls and the furniture pushed against it, until he repeated the cycle again._

_Brita sat on a long couch, ankles together, a book opened on her lap. Her eyes roved the text on the pages, she flipped through them within a short amount of time, but she couldn't concentrate long enough to actually read something. This man infuriated her. She fed him all the information he needed to start doing his job, but he had not accomplished more than instigating his introduction to Asta. _

_"Okay," said Johan. "You don't like that question. What is your favorite flower?"_

_She felt his presence behind her, heard the sound that the tips of his calloused fingers made across the fine leather. The smell of sweat, sunlight, and fading cologne hung on his clothes, drifting to her, invading her senses, fogging up her mind._

_"Have you considered asking Princess Asta those questions?" asked Brita, turning the page. "She would be ecstatic. She hasn't stopped talking about you."_

_Johan startled her when he slammed both hands over the back of the couch where she sat, leaning forward, his face appearing in her periphery. "Can we talk about you?"_

_"That isn't a part of my job."_

_"But we work together, you know everything about me."_

_"You never gave me a choice."_

_He laughed and he was beautiful, shining. _

Brita accepted the restrictions. She expected them. This wasn't supposed to be easy, but in part, it had been. Easy, that is. Asta being so trusting and oblivious made it so. For an old friend, an old confidant, in danger, the battered and used story, the nightmares of women, it would have been shocking if Asta had not accepted her back into her company.

Well, she wasn't _in_ yet. She would be required to pass all the screenings imposed on her, and until she did, she was given limited access to the castle, one sitting room, the one closest to the foyer, the entrance, and the Great Hall. The highly populated spaces. She slept with the Castle Guard in their stone barracks, which sat in the castle's shadow. Under constant vigilance, her movements were impaired, but she would gain more freedom after the princess' return. She trusted her implicitly, these restrictions were only implemented for the sake of the wiser men and women around her. She did it to please them. It was expected of her to be that smart, but she was foolish when it came to the people she considered her friends. A complete total idiot.

Idiots rarely survived. Rarely.

The foyer was empty as she was allowed passage indoors, glared at suspiciously by the soldiers standing guard, but distantly she heard the familiar buzzing of the servants hard at work. She walked across the glossy floors, her footsteps echoing back to her, and entered the sitting room, not the least bit shocked to find Bo sitting atop a cushion on the windowsill, staring out into the rolling hills with a thick tome in her hands.

She pretended not to notice her, but Brita knew not to expect any less from her. The narrow foreign woman was a bloodhound. She likely smelled Brita's plan to drop by the castle long before the thought formed in her mind.

She owed this woman her freedom. If Bo had not entered the dungeons in the thick of night and offered her the resources for a quick, undisturbed escape, she would've been executed after Kay. He had to open his big mouth, never the sort to do things alone.

Brita thought she would be grateful to Bo, but she didn't trust her. She didn't understand why someone that had attacked Bengt in Asta's defense would turn around and release her hidden enemy. What was the point? What did she gain? The only thing she said to her before disappearing was that Brita still had something to do. There were plenty of things that she had left pending post-imprisonment. It was only after she was starving in that dank cell that she realized everything she hadn't done. It amused her at first. Having regrets. Sitting silent, listening to water drip and the crazed wailing in the dungeons. The howling so loud it shook down her spine like an invasive parasite.

She wished she could say that she had noble ambitions, that she wanted to be _someone _in her life, forget her nasty past—overcome it—and grow, move forward. She didn't. She spent too much time serving under Freja that as she grew from the young girl she had picked up to the petty woman standing before the untroubled caretaker.

Nobody watched Bo. Not as they should have. The sprawling sitting room was empty, the furniture evenly spaced out with several floral arrangements to brighten up its gray interior.

"Why did you release me?"

Bo used her finger to bookmark her book, her narrow gaze drifting from the window to meet Brita's. "Of all the questions more pertinent to your position that is the one you choose to ask?"

A note of amusement filled the space.

"What makes it a bad question?"

"Not bad," said Bo, "but you can do better."

She repeated the question, stubbornly.

Bo smiled, a curve of the lips that made Brita uneasy. There was something unmistakably rotten about this woman. It didn't sit right with her.

"Be satisfied that you will do what you came to do and concentrate solely on getting it done."

"You don't care about the princess, do you?" Brita braved one step closer to the seated woman. "How could you with the way you've been behaving? You released me, and then, you vouched for me. Said I could be trusted."

"Is that what you think?"

"Am I wrong?"

"Do you think you're wrong?"

"No," answered Brita confidently. "I don't."

"Then you're not."

_It amazed Brita to watch Johan approach Asta. The princess, girlish in her too-thin body lacking all the physical charms of a woman, no breasts or curves—nothing appealing to the eye. She reddened when Johan took her hand, drawing it up to his lips to kiss. She melted and he looked at her, as if she were the most beautiful woman in existence, the only girl in his world—the dream of every woman, to be in a man's world the only person of utmost importance._

_A tiny hole opened in Brita's chest, slowly stretching, and the dark sting spread. She lowered her gaze to the top of Ingrid's golden head, a brush in her hand, feeling awkward for the strange emotion._

_Ingrid quietly mumbled to herself, always repeating the same words, making no sense at all. "Follow the charms in the Hult Forest. She will wait."_

**QUIET AVENGER** | END


	46. (15) Nightmare Trail - Pt 1

**FIFTEEN**: Nightmare Trail

* * *

**Tzap**

_The Creator._

Tzap was the original kingdom of magic in the Byzen Cluster. Before the island's demise, it was the home to a magic school with worldwide fame and created an agency to market their magicians to local and foreign kingdoms. Within the Cluster, being both for its apt location and its efforts to maintain a fair balance, Tzap was the kingpin. However, due to the greed its fellow cluster kingdoms and the jealousy for their success, the other kingdoms turned on it, waging war that resulted in phenomenon that sunk it to the depths of the Byzen Sea and in the appearance of the Six Sacred Pillars.

Survivors of the incident scattered. Nohr took in many Tzapian magicians, among them including a member of the royal family, who went on to help them establish their own magic academy creating the kingdom they live in today.

* * *

**xl**: Surprise update. A shortie this time just because we are weaving into the next phase of the story, but there is another part after this one.

Re-iterating my question from the last update: What sort of introductions would you be interested in reading in the future now that I've literally exhausted all I could from the Cluster Kingdoms? Tzap was the last one, of course.

**Thank you**: starrat, Miqila, and De hearts 26 for your reviews.


	47. (15) Nightmare Trail - Pt 2

**NIGHTMARE TRAIL** |

{ **i** }

_A woman stood alone, her feet planted an inch away from the edge of a cliff overlooking destruction, tall pillars of smoke rising into the faded clouds—gray against a transitioning sky—from the wreckage. Her graying hair curling down her back with strands framing her weathered face, not worn by age but deteriorating vitality, and in it there were signs that she might have once been beautiful—the wide eyes, heavily lashed and a warm brown shade, the natural curve of the ends of her lips, a straight nose, and an oval shaped face, though her cheeks were hollowed. Exhaustion weighed her down, her shoulders hunched slightly, posture all wrong, though she was probably once tall and lean, now bent with her sallow skin strained tight against her bones. She wore robes that swallowed her up, gray and dragging behind her like a shackled weight. She liked to laugh with the younger children, assuring them when in fear they asked if she was dying—death a word she never thought she'd need to worry for after she was saved—that she would merely revert to the existence she had been before. She preferred to ignore the truth pulsing like an ache in the back of her mind, reminding her of instances of tenderness and violence she wished to abandon with her past and of the golden boy that breathed life into her body, her beautiful savior—her beautiful mistake. Her nightmare. Their nightmare._

_She stared beyond her open palm to a white, shining landscape filled to the brim with every creature imaginable and as she measuredly closed her hand into a fist she tried to capture the image, commit the strand to memory, allow the rukh to feast on it and wish upon it until the impossible dream was realized. Her shaking hand would not close, however, desperately as she urged it to. Her brain wouldn't listen, the muscles of her hand tight beyond her control. Magic escaped her like a broken spout returning him to power._

_Straining hard to beckon the image, align the planets and the stars to the correct path, depleted what little strength she used to keep her body standing. Her legs shook violently, her other hand tightening around the long staff ending in three interlocking triangles, stabbed into the ground like a cane, knuckles blanching, the metal biting into her skin until blood spilled, drawing lines down its golden surface. Red droplets soaked the earth. His blood. Rushing to escape her, never having acclimated to her veins, the circulation through her body, all too foreign for him to live in her._

_She fell into the arms of a bespectacled man, who rushed to catch her, afraid the hardened earth would shatter her, the vision breaking away like ashes rising in a fire, revealing something darker buried underneath all of its shining glory. Her body ached, throbbed. In her pain, she heard his voice, smelled the sweetness of his skin, the kiss of his brown hair, the gold shining around him abandoning her—a punishment, _the _consequence of forsaking him._

_"Abigail." _

* * *

Asta reached the end of the earthen passage and stood perplexed as the narrowly positioned trees, their roots growing out from under each other as if in constant battle to uproot themselves and escape from the wilderness of Hult Forests, opened into a wide clearing near the edge of a cliff, a sparkling backdrop of pale waters far beyond her eyes could see where the sky seeming to hand low enough to kiss the rippling surface.

A small hut sat, built of blackened wood and straw, a stack of firewood piled high on a wall with a fogged narrow window above, a few logs in disarray, spilling from their positions, burnt and splintered edges as if the pyramid of firewood had been struck by a force that singed various surfaces while knocking others out of the order. A large wide trunk marred by constant contact with an axe commanded her attention, an axe abandoned on the stamped grass beside it, glinting against the sunlight. Several feet beside the hut a clothesline erected by two sturdy wooden polls stabbed deep into the earth holding yellowed linen.

The door was opened to a narrow aperture, knocking noisily against the frame as it appeared to hang a little off its upper hinges, like a tired beckoning bell. A softer clanking reached her ears, even from the gaping distance in between, originating from the small animal bones, porcelain white and speckled with dust, shuddering against the breeze, a morbid wind chime or a ward against evil. She could not know, but deep in the marrow of her bone, she followed these odd creations, led down a different path in a forest she felt so familiar with, through a long tunnel of darkness created by interlocking trees that made it feel as if she were journeying to the entrance of another dimension.

Above her muddied seashells, animal bones, and blackened straw dolls hung from several branches of trees, charms that reminded her of those Brita used to help her mother lace from strings of pale twine. The ingredients were all wrong. Nothing like the flowers she remembered used to be punctured in the center by needles to tie into tiny clusters of vivid colors bleeding into one, the translucent white petals of _diphylleia grayi_, the skeleton flower her mother cherished, after a light shower drew out the shade of the bloody orchids stitched beside it.

The charms were beautiful when she had encountered her first, but as she wove through prickly brambles, perfumed flowers, and vanishing sunlight—fading against wide leaves and narrow branches—they deteriorated, the blossoms replaced by tiny bones, the gems twinkling in dusty light switched for metal medallions with runes carved into them, and ribbons turned to decomposing braided strings. Sweet smells gave way to dead scents, putrid smells that burned deep inside her nostrils when she inhaled them.

The fading golden birds brought her to that hut after she lost sight of the stringy haired woman, old with deep sagging wrinkles and a small, sturdy but boxy frame. She knew who she was without an introduction. Her name flashing in her mind. Maeve. The midwife.

Asta approached the hut with reluctance borne of the unknown. Her throat dry like uncared for landscape beaten by sun, making it hard to swallow. Her nose wrinkled, assaulted by the smell of overcooked herbs. She heard the bubbling of water, the hissing of it making contact with a heated surface.

"Hello," she called tentatively, speaking to the repeatedly slamming door.

No answer.

She repeated herself again, reaching to touch the door, stopping it from knocking against the threshold and its metal hinge squeaked. No response. She pushed it open, the squeal seeming to echo inside the emptied house, and she stepped into the darkness, the dim glow of a fire burning underneath a slab of stone. A pot overflowing with water, sizzling against the surface as it spilled over the edge. Gold birds dove into the shriveled mint and barley, sinking deep into the water and bubbling into more., reproducing to overflow.

Asta took a washcloth from a nearby counter and threw the water of the pot into the steadily burning flame, putting it out. As she started to turn, the room flipped on its head and her knees buckled under the weight of her body. She fell upon them hard, feeling them bruise as black edged the corner of her eyes. She slumped onto her side, her surroundings blurring into darkness.

The creak of the floorboards, a rippling beneath her body, and a shadow above her, a wide face overcast but familiar. An odd thump of her heart, a strange breath in her lungs, trapped like a fluttering bird desperate to escape its cage.

"You're late."

A low, raspy voice greeted, rough, like the woman in the cell beside hers. Maeve.

{ **ii** }

Asta dreamt of a golden, gilded palace filled with every treasure known to man—monetary, rare, one-of-a-kind, everything in purposeful piles and shining bright, blinding. She met the towering shadow of the man who greeted her, welcoming her back as time slowed alongside her heart, a mild tempo inside her ribcage. Swaddled by golden birds, a boy entered her field of vision and she woke with a jolt, sitting up.

Sweat trickled down the side of her face, hair glued to her flushed skin, the breath filling her lungs and leaving them in a rush. Her heart raced, she swallowed deeply, hard, the fright taking another minute to ebb, falling into consciousness was like diving headfirst into a hundred meter drop into water. Breaking the surface bruised her body, the aches radiating from her ailing muscles.

"What did you see?"

Asta started, eyes roving the modest hut. The little furniture it possessed appeared cramped together—a place for cooking on one side above the narrow rectangular window, atop the slab of stone sat a burnt pot with a puddle of water underneath, dried plants strung from baskets nearby, a narrow bed with a scratch blanket lacking the softness that she was accustomed to, and tiny table toppled with jars of rotten things, white maggots frothing over the surface. Overcooked herbs hung low, filling every nook and cranny. The cramped space appeared busier by having shelves nailed to the walls, four or five in each, stacked with jars and other strange-looking objects.

The hut was all a single room.

Maeve stood at the edge of the bed, flat-nosed with wild, stringy hair, her body squat and round, clothed in a faded green dress under an apron, skirt caked with mud. There were wrinkles all over her face, like the rings in the trunk of a tree, bags under her bloodshot eyes, and her thin lips were pressed into a tight line.

The question asked went over her head, the confusion must have been evident in her expression because Maeve repeated her question.

"What?" asked Asta. The narrow bed surrounded in book stacks of every shape and size. "See? See what?"

Maeve pulled a chair from behind her in front of the bed and dropped into it. The old chair groaned under her weight, creaking with the slightest movements.

"Your dream."

Attempting to retrieve the contents of her dream made it dissipate from her mind. She blinked, questioning herself and it, feeling that it could have been important. As she had forgotten it, she figured it wasn't. She met Maeve's eyes in the dim lighting of the hut, that shadows heavy in her face, hitting it harshly in odd angles.

"I don't remember."

The response displeased Maeve, but she moved on. The emotion a brief pinch of her eyebrows. "Do you know who I am?"

Asta blinked, the confusion in her deepening like a chasm. "Maeve."

A smile split her face, teeth peeking through with a few visible gaps between the yellowed grin.

"Good." Maeve returned to her feet swiftly. "There's a well about a five-minute walk from here, heading east, my vegetable patch is to the west, hidden behind a stretch of blueberry bushes. If you want warm, start a fire in the hearth, and if you want food, cook on the stone. There are pots and pans underneath the cabinets in the kitchen where the dirty dishes are stacked—you're going to want to wash those. Baths are taken outside, in the tub or in the lake, you should know where to find it, you're familiar with the forests after all."

"Why?"

"Why what? You're here to learn."

"L-Learn?"

"You cannot go on using your power without any proper training," said Maeve. "You waste too much magoi, more than you possess. If you remain untrained, you'll eventually spend too much and kill yourself. We can't have that. You're too important. Queen of Ione and princess of the Kou."

Asta started to push off the scratchy blanket, but Maeve shocked her by jerking it back into place.

"I have to tell someone," said Asta. "Everyone will be worried after I ran off the stage like that."

Pressing into the crowd of Ionian citizens, the heat radiating from their body's close proximity, feeling the sweat beading on her forehead as Asta lost herself in a sea of strangers chanting her name like a prayer, hoping that it would be enough to transfer the feelings rooted deep in their hearts to her. She couldn't imagine the expressions on the faces of the guards that accompanied in her to the gathering, and because she continued to draw blanks on the subject, she wished she could apologize to them all, immediately if possible. She felt terrible.

"Someone will come find you when the time is right for you to return," Maeve replied.

"You misunderstand," started Asta thickly, "I didn't come here to stay."

"Then why did you come?"

"Because if I ignored you, there, standing in the crowd, knowing that you are the woman that I met in that dungeon in Corrin, that you and you alone hold answers to questions that determine I'm not going insane, that you can prove what I still am unable to believe, and that if anyone can teach me what or why or how I came upon this gift—it has to be you," said Asta, pausing for breath. "If I ignored you, I would be giving up on me. I don't want to be crazy and I don't want to be useless, but I don't want to run away from Ione again."

"You cannot leave." Maeve hovered menacingly above her, all the harsh shadows hardening her face. "If you do, I will not teach you, and the answers you seek will be gone forever, for the next time you seek me out, you will not find me. This is and will always be the only opportunity that you will ever have to learn from me what I must impart to you."

Asta shoved the blanket from herself forcefully, swinging her legs off the bed to stand on them, though her knees bent in weakness. "Then I won't stay."

Maeve said nothing as Asta snatched her shoes from the floor and made a beeline for the door.

"You can't return."

Asta ignored Maeve's parting words and slipped into the clearing. She walked towards the edge of the trees. She didn't recognize that part of the forest, but she had found her way there somehow and would manage to make it back to Io Castle as soon as she discovered a place she recalled from all the time she spent in the forest.

She considered briefly what she left behind as she inhaled the crisp cold air, the chill growing after sunset, and emerged her mind completely in finding clues beyond the charms. Her first clue to finding the hut had been to follow the strange charms strung from the branches of trees. The beautiful melting away into the grotesque medley of animal bones and straw dolls. She would do the opposite, chase the creepy ornaments until they started to shine with gems, but she would have to do it quickly, while there was enough light to bring out the shine of the precious stones to guide her.

Asta walked until the brink of exhaustion. Night fell around her like a blanket smothering light, the moon too high and obscured by the canopy of entangled branches above her. She paused to catch her breath, back pressed against a trunk, and swallowed with difficulty, her throat dry. She strained to see in the dark, all of the paths she previously took blended into the same stretch of trees and strong smelling wildflowers. She walked across the same stretch of animal bone charms.

She needed water, her stomach cramped from hunger, and her feet throbbed from having journeyed nonstop in inadequate shoes. She slumped down into a seat, drawing her knees close to her chest, and wrapping her arms around her knees. She wanted a bath, the warmth of a fire, and the comfort of her home.

She rested for several minutes, longer after she startled awake, never realizing that the pull of exhaustion made it so easy to fall asleep. She returned to her tired, blistering feet, and trekked through the forest again, going down a path she had not taken before.

Asta maneuvered her way from one place to the next, resting in ten to twenty minute intervals, failing her own determination by falling asleep until morning. She sought the positive in her mistake and used daylight to guide her. She found the marks she left behind at night in tree trunks and her hope to find her way out of that unknown part of Hult Forests.

The first clearing she spotted in the distance returned her to Maeve's hut. Her heart sank, but she retraced her steps, taking every step opposite to the path that she had taken. Her desperation driving her forward, the pain falling away numb, but nothing changed. She continued emerging in the same place, staring at the hut at a different angle each time until she had grown so exasperated by the turn of events that she broke down into tears, falling into a seat on the ground, her body overpowered by sobs.

She didn't want to be there, but she realized that she had no choice. She should've taken Maeve seriously when she'd heard her say that she wouldn't be able to leave.

Maeve approached her minutes later, setting a wooden pail of water down in front of her, its contents sloshing over the edge.

"Why is this happening?" asked Asta, looking up to the older woman.

"This is where you need to be now."

"I need to be home. I have to stop the civil conflict. I need to stop my aunt."

"If you had returned to that castle, you would've died. A pathetic useless death."

"You don't know that. How can you know that?"

"I can and do." Maeve stepped away. "Now get off the floor. There's work to be done and you won't get any of it done crying there."

Asta looked over her shoulder longingly after standing, drying her tears on the sleeve of her shirt. She started to walk after Maeve, but the old woman shouted at her to pick up the bucket, and she went back to do so only to get reprimanded for spilling water with every step she took.

"How can you know the things that you do?" asked Asta, standing next to Maeve in the cramped kitchen space. The overcooked herbs still cooking on the slab of stone above a hearth of flames. "Are you like me?"

"No," said Maeve simply, opening a jar of red flowers to add to the overcooked herbs in the pot. "I'm one of your keepers. A völva."

* * *

_"Should you be missing so many lessons?" asked Johan, breaking away from their kiss. She pouted, looking up at him disappointed that he would pull away from her almost as soon as she kissed him._

_"I brought my books with me," said Asta, gesturing to the two tomes she carried underneath her arm. They were assigned by her instructor, the one tasked with drilling historical facts into her head. Asta had only read the sections that interested her. "If I get bored, I can always finish reading up on the Ionian House."_

_"Oh?" Johan chuckled, giving her waist a playful squeeze. "Are you saying you'll get bored with me?"_

_Asta giggled. "You never know."_

_Johan took in his surroundings before guiding her further into Hult Forests. He set down a blanket by the lake and packed a basket with sandwiches for a romantic picnic. Together they sat with their arms pressed against one another admiring the sparkling white surface of the lake, the sound of the wind whistling between the leaves and the shy woodland creatures skittering about, filing the silence with light conversation._

_A bird bathed over the surface of the water, chirping lively, entrancing Asta that she never noticed Johan pick one of her books and flip through it with interest. She caught sight of him doing so in her periphery and turned her attention to him completely, captivated by his innate beauty. His dirty blond hair swept over the other side, her gaze raked the inked runes over the shaved side of his head. His nose long, straight, jaw tight and well-sculptured. His eyes were steel-colored with blond lashes framing them. His black uniform molded to his lean, muscled physique, his legs were long and strong. _

_He caught her staring and she smiled sheepishly. He leaned forward, his lips pressing onto hers. He shocked her with the hunger of his kiss and she temporarily lost herself in the butterflies raging in her belly, the heat slowly spreading across her body. She was lying on her back with his tongue coaxing hers, his body half on hers, and his hand sliding from her waist to her hips, lower still before she pushed them away, feeling a sting of embarrassment. _

_Johan pulled away abruptly, returning to his seat beside her, smoothing out his jacket._

_Asta's lips ached from emptiness. "You pulled away again."_

_"You pushed my hands away," he responded._

_She sat up. "I was just surprised."_

_Johan returned his attention to the book he held earlier. "What are they teaching you out of this?"_

_"About the Tzap Incident," said Asta._

_"What's that?"_

_"It's the legend of the sunken Byzen Kingdom of Tzap."_

_"There's another Byzen Kingdom?"_

_"According to the legend there is, but it's never been proven…well, I don't know if it has been."_

_"Do you think it exists?"_

_"I don't know what I think." She moved closer to him, her shoulder pressing into his arm. "Why did you pull away again?"_

_"Tell me more about Tzap," he said, smiling charmingly._

_"Did I do something wrong?" she demanded, her heart pounding harder in read._

_"Why did the kingdom sink?"_

_"Why are you ignoring my question?"_

_"You shouldn't be skipping so many lessons."_

_Asta scrambled to her feet, snatching her books from the ground in a hurry. "I'll stop."_

_"Wait, Asta." Johan chased her as far as the evenly lined trees, taking her hand and spinning her around. "I said wait!"_

_She hated to admit to it, but there were already tears in her eyes. "I said I'll stop skipping lessons."_

_"I'm sorry," he said, guiding her closer to him. "I did it unconsciously. I don't mean to push you away—"_

_"Then why are you doing it? That wasn't the first time. You've been doing this more and more every time we meet and avoid the question when I bring it up. You said we have to talk about things that need to be fixed, but what can I do when you don't give me anything to go on?"_

_He took her face into his hands, lifting it. "Listen to me, Asta, you don't know what you want."_

_She wrapped her hands around his, pushing them from her. "What?"_

_"Are you really in love with me?"_

_"I am, I am in love with you." Warm tears rolled down her face, her chest congesting. "Why would you ask me that? Don't you believe I do? I do love you. I love you a lot."_

_Johan kissed her forehead, wiping away a few of her tears as he stared down at her tenderly. "You're the princess of this country—"_

_"There's nothing stopping me from marrying you."_

_"You have better options—"_

_"But I want you."_

_"Think of your people, of this country, I can't possibly be the only man fit to be your husband."_

_"To me you are. That's all that matters."_

_That night, however, after she went to bed, heart heavy and slightly broken by Johan's doubt as well as her inability to reassure him about the permanence of his existence in her life, she dreamt of walking through a large library in a foreign land. She followed the bookshelves to an orange light where the library appeared to end. There she met a boy with red hair and eyes that acknowledged her presence, his thin eyebrows drawing to the center into a wrinkle._

_"Who are you?"_

_She woke up when she tried to give him her name and drowsily turned on her side as a golden light faded in her periphery. She closed her puffy eyes, tears dried around them, and let out a shuddering sigh, returning easily to sleep._

**NIGHTMARE TRAIL** | END


	48. (16) Volatile Kingdom - Pt 1

**SIXTEEN**: Volatile Kingdom

* * *

**The Goddess of Tzap**

Among the hundreds of legends and stories passed from the older generation to the wide-eyed generation of the future, the most popular tale among the people of the Byzen Cluster is _The Goddess of Tzap_. Every Byzen kingdom tells a different version of the legend with slight variations, but the overarching story is the same—a goddess came down from the heavens and gave birth to that magic nation of Tzap.

* * *

**xl**: Hola!

I survived ten weeks of my writing getting dragged by my peers and professors. It was great. Now, I have to wait for grades to post in January to make sure that it was worth it. (And when I say dragged, I mean it in the best way possible. Nobody was mean about it, of course.) I'll continue doing my best for y'all.

Moving on, I'm going to be trying to get ahead of writing to prepare for another stressful semester at school, so I won't be updating whole chapters for this story all at once like I have been doing. This will mean you will get consistent (maybe weekly) updates instead of waiting a month for a single update. This will be better for me in the long-run, especially once I'm back in school.

I have also started working on discussion entries for the past two chapters, starting at 14, for anyone interested in reading my progress for each chapter. These are great places for questions if you have any. If the posts do not answer them, you can totally ask questions in the comment section. Discussion posts are located at my livejournal, there is a link in the profile (that doesn't work, but google the name and you will find me). If you have any questions that you specifically want addressed in these posts, you can leave them here. I'll answer them so long as their responses contain no spoilers.

Check my journal for previews for the next part of the chapter. Previews will be up after the new chapter is posted here. If there are delays, it should be for a day or two.

Thank you to the readers that sent me ideas for introductions! We're going to be focusing on this legend now.

**Many, many, many thanks to these lovely reviewers. I know that I may not have been able to respond to y'all personally, but you have my thanks**: shipudden-piece, starrat, pemberleys, CaptainKodak, SilverMist-Yukino, and De hearts 26.

Enjoy.

P.S. - Something for you to mull over. What other Magi characters would you like to see OC stories with? I have a short piece planned for Sinbad and a longer story for Koumei, but I want to practice writing a few short pieces with other characters, so give me some names and I'll consider them for the future.


	49. (16) Volatile Kingdom - Pt 2

**VOLATILE KINGDOM** | AGNES KRAUSS

. **i** .

Agnes caught Baron and Koumei in the middle of a conversation that she had no qualms in eavesdropping after realizing that neither one of them took note of her presence. Baron wore a navy kaftan, fitted to perfection on his lean, muscular frame, his brown neck decorated by a silver chain ending with a triangular opal, his black hair trimmed a few centimeters shorter and pushed back out of his face, and his dark eyes were shining with interest, possessing the same natural charm as his older brother. Captivating beyond his handsome face. In his arms was the overweight orange tabby he was rarely seen without. He stood a few inches taller than the Kou Empire's Second Prince, the slovenly red-head with his messy ponytail and baggy robes hanging untidily off his frame projected a lesser image than what his title denoted.

She heard bits and pieces of their exchange, catching the last of it when Koumei, glancing in her direction, mentioned something about anIonian House meeting before he excused himself, walking in the opposite direction from where she stood.

Baron smiled at her, bright as sunshine. The tabby purred to his affectionate caresses as he moved towards her. "Good morning, Agnes."

"You're surprisingly chummy with the shabby prince," she remarked, arms folded under her chest.

"No need for name calling."

"Are you that comfortable losing your title to someone like that? I mean, Prince Kouen is understandable, fearsome-looking man, but Koumei's a bit..."

"He's brilliant," said Baron, "and he has tirelessly been compiling pertinent information on the whereabouts of the missing Corrinean and Baryonian princesses, not to mention he's been running this kingdom in his brother and Asta's absence, has executed one rebel leader, and created a stage for Asta to seize the upper hand in the budding revolution to spare the people the unnecessary bloodshed."

Agnes frowned. The homely prince was certainly competent, she'd give him that.

"Have you seen Christin?"

"Did you lose her already? Get into a fight? Don't feel shy about telling me, we're friends after all."

"Us? Friends?" queried Agnes. "That's presumptuous of you."

"We Hassahan princes are known for our presumption." Baron tilted his head to the side, the small, gold hoop earring in his right ear dangling freely, shining bright against his brown skin. "I'm almost offended you don't know this."

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, repeating her question.

"Tiny green-haired cherub?" asked Baron.

"Yes," she said exasperatedly.

"Not since this morning."

Agnes turned away, determined to search elsewhere and stop whoever she encountered to ask after Christin, who she feared might have slunk away to chase Seishuu to Astoria to see Asta. Baron hurried, appearing in her periphery, so close she stepped away, lifting her eyes to him, her pink hair, braided over her shoulder swung side-to-side with each step.

"What?" snapped Agnes.

"Would you mind if I accompanied you?" he asked, genteel. The two-faced prince.

"Do you have business with Christin?"

"No, but I am interested in both the walking aspect of the search and your company. One doesn't seem to get enough exercise here, being so pampered."

She took that as it was, an insult. He stayed in Io Castle being fawned over by the staff, having conversations of grand importance with their foreign conquerors, behaving like old friends, and owning his privacy, all of which she lacked sharing the dumpy barracks with over two hundred Castle Guard soldiers.

"Oh? Is it different in Hassah?" She retraced her footsteps down the service stairs and Baron following close behind, keeping up with her stride. "Hard to imagine, with how you and your brother seem to put on all the jewelry you own every morning."

"You should meet our mother," he remarked.

She snorted. "Does she still command you?"

"She is our queen, of course. We are hardly her children anymore, more her subjects—our loyalty is measured by the blood running through our veins. She only keeps and nurtures us until we are of age."

"That's sounds cruel," she admitted, leaving the final step of the staircase, half turning to him as he did the same. The orange cat yawned, tail swinging side to side, and continued to purr to Baron's soothing scratches behind its perked ears.

"It was, but we cannot change what our culture is." He paused. "I remember the day Melik was cast out of the palace with nothing but the clothes and jewels on his back. He was sixteen. The first born. With but one instruction. Would you like to guess what that was?"

"Don't shame the family name?"

Baron laughed. "That was a given. Our mother told him not to disappoint her."

"Well, did he? Did you?"

"I think you can gauge an answer by our appearances."

"Who had it worse?" asked Agnes, curious. Nikias told her Baron was special when she wanted to broaden her knowledge of the other kingdoms, hoping to compound the information into a set of tools to access Nohr. Nikias cared little for the information divulged so long as she did her part and she never failed him.

"That's a personal question."

"But aren't we friends?"

Baron's smile never wavered. "I had hoped, but you thought me presumptuous. The last thing I would want is to offend you."

Agnes grimaced. "How courteous of you."

They walked around in circles on the first floor shrouded in silence without hope in either of them to break free of it. There were several narrow hallways in Io Castle that confused her, linking one larger corridor with another, which she blamed entirely for how many times they found their way back to the Great Hall and high-ceilinged foyer.

Frustration suffused her bloodstream, her long fingers curling into her palms and the long, colored nails bit into the skin.

Baron coddled the orange feline in his arms until it appeared so at home on his person that it seemed to do nothing but purr and enjoy the shower of attention, unbothered by their halt.

"For someone so poisonous, you seem awfully good with that animal," said Agnes, the two standing under an imposing portrait of a strict-looking man with close shaven blond hair and an icy judging stare dressed in black military clothing fitted to his lean, muscular body. The hallway they exited led them to one of the Great Hall's side entrances.

"You are very persistent," said Baron calmly.

"I'm curious."

Baron stopped scratching the cat behind its perked ears and bent down to set it on the floor. The feline stretched as Baron straightened to his full height.

"Were you in love with Nikias?"

Agnes suppressed the urge to flinch, her arms folding over her chest. "Do you think I was?"

He shrugged. The tabby made a figure eight around his legs.

"If I answer your question will you answer mine?"

Baron stepped forward, the distance between them narrowed despite her attempts to keep the gap wide, her heart leapt into her throat, and her violet eyes fixed on his black eyes, a spark in their depths. She jerked back when she felt his fingers on her cheek, the warmth of his body quick to spread across her skin. He unnerved her, made her belly quiver, as if she were a girl learning the charms of attraction.

He stood close enough to her that she felt his breath, hot, against her chin. She thought he would kiss her, positive he would, but he didn't.

He smirked, his lips so near she felt the grin curve his mouth. It sparked the sudden desire in her to grab him by the kaftan, bringing his lips to hers, and kissing him until they bruised. She didn't care if he was poisonous.

She wanted to kiss him, mesmerized by the sinful shape of his mouth—of the skillfulness that it promised—but he stepped away from her, rejecting the yearning she felt. She swallowed hard, ashamed, her chest rising and falling.

"You still look pale," he told her, reaching down to take her wrist, pressing his forefinger and middle finger to the inside of it, "should you be up yet? Your pulse is high." He released her to brush a loose pink curl that had fallen across her face. "Your cheeks are flushed." His thumb traced down, feather soft, from her cheek to her lips, over them. "Your breathing is erratic too."

His actions were purposeful.

"You should rest. If I see Christin, I'll be sure to tell her you're looking for her."

"Who's looking for me?"

Agnes jolted, moving Baron out of the way at the same time Christin stumbled into view, her big brown eyes wide with interest.

"Agnes," said Baron. He turned to her, inclining his head. "Good walk. We should do it again."

She wanted nothing more than to become invisible as Baron walked away, leaving her alone with Christin. She swallowed hard, her throat drier than a desert.

"Did something happen?" asked Christin, peering up at her inquisitively. She glimpsed in the direction that Baron disappeared towards and awarded Agnes a wide suggestive grin the next time their eyes met, making Agnes' expression harden. "Wow."

"What?"

"Are you attracted to Baron?"

"Are you attracted to Seishuu?" challenged Agnes, taken aback by the question.

"Oh yeah, I plan to marry him."

"Does he know this?"

"Not yet. I'm trying to be subtle about it."

Christin wouldn't understand her perception of subtlety wasn't the same as the rest of the world.

"So?" started Christin, the silence between them brief.

"I'm not answering your question."

Agnes started to walk away from her, towards the foyer on the other side of the corridor.

Christin pursued her. "Because you are, aren't you?"

"I'm not."

. **ii **.

Heinrich and Elsa never offered Agnes an explanation for their betrayal. There was never any indication of their faithlessness, ire, or ambition. The bright morning which had seen her and her magicians from the Tassos' hidden palace, the air was ripe with the promise of bloodshed and victory. Asta pretended to betrayed her husband and Nikias was overconfident that in their final stand, they would emerge triumphant. Agnes remembered the night before, gathering everyone in her unit, the five magicians that came with her to Corrin standing on either side of her—Christin, Elsa, Heinrich, Gerda, and Dirk—always together since they left Magnostadt pursuing their dream.

Her dream came alive in her tiny bedroom with her bearded father, his graying blond hair braided over his shoulder. He was broad-shouldered and kind eyed, with a thick tome on his lap opened to one of hundreds of fairytales printed on the crinkly pages and the warm glow of a candle, dyeing her lavender walls orange.

_"I dreamt of attending the Nohrian Magic Academy," her father confessed, violet eyes fixed to the speckled sky beyond the tiny square window in her bedroom, the kingdom of Magnostadt luminous with magic. "An impossible dream."_

_Captivated by her father's yearning, the forlornness of his expression, like a young man discovering love's cruel rejection for the first time, she asked if she'd be able to attend the academy. The wrinkles around his narrow eyes deepening along the shadows cutting sharply against his strong bone structure._

_The inquiry made her father smile, eyes crinkling. "You would certainly be ambitious to try. Very rarely does a magician outside the Nohrian kingdom attend the school despite both Magnostadt and Nohr being in peaceful communications. Brilliant magicians are welcomed to apply for a transfer if they're above fourth kodor, but there has only been one known magician to have accomplished the feat and that happened when the rules established between the two schools were more lenient."_

Every night since, Agnes had begged her father for stories about Nohr and their magicians, tales that he told her delighted by her interest, inspired it, and those weaved into the legends attaching Nohr to the ancient Tzapian magicians, which they had taken in after their island sank to the bottom of the sea.

She entered Magnostadt Academy at fourteen, started out in fifth kodor, and met Christin, young and eager to learn. As they climbed up the ranks they met the others—Elsa and Dirk in magical theories, Heinrich in a joint physical training course with fourth kodors, and Gerda in magical history—and used their free time to convene together, journeying as far as they were allowed, and sharing their aspirations. Elsa wanted to teach and Heinrich dreamed of going into magical research towards the betterment of their community.

Agnes _knew_ them.

She stared out into the spread of tree tops, a vibrant emerald sea, from where she stood in an arched balcony that wrapped around the eastern wing of Io Castle. She accessed the area from stairs located beyond a wooden door in the open courtyard on the first floor. Being outside of the castle meant that she could be in it without feeling as though she were under constant surveillance, which she was and she understood completely that that was how things needed to be until they trusted that she wouldn't do anything to disrupt the Kou Empire's agenda.

Christin stood beside her, leaning into the balustrade.

"Why do you suppose they did it?" asked Agnes.

"We should accept that we won't always have an answer to all of our questions."

"You are never so quick to give up."

"I'm furious, Agnes, it's not that I'm giving up. They were our friends. I thought I knew them, down to the core of their bitty hearts, but obviously, I didn't because I never expected for Heinrich and Elsa to go missing with Egil. I didn't even think that was in the realm of possibility, let alone Heinrich attacking me. He used magic against me. He _almost_ killed me. They nearly killed you. We trusted them with our lives for years. For them to turn on us the way they did—I don't know what to think. My head will explode if I stress out over the why. They did it, that's that. We lived, they died."

Agnes' heart felt wrung dry, her eyes the same. She fought against Elsa and Heinrich with all her might, having promised to keep Asta safe as long as she kept her word about the missing Corrinean princesses. She should have anticipated the battle. How else could their betrayal end knowing that they were working for the man that killed Nikias, that they had assisted in helping him get away with it? She was smarter than to fall for nonsense, but she wished she could've discovered that they were being controlled, that they could be saved. She needed that hope now as she had clung to it then.

"And their bodies?"

"Their ashes were shipped to Magnostadt to their parents," said Christin. "Princess Asta wrote letters to them, saying Heinrich and Elsa served Corrin well and lost their lives in an important war."

"How kind of her."

The sarcasm tasted bitter on her tongue.

"It was kind," said Christin firmly. "Any other person in her position wouldn't have bothered with that level of formality themselves. Traitors like Heinrich and Elsa wouldn't have been given a proper funeral, let alone returned to their families."

Agnes covered her face with her hands, the sting of tears filling her eyes nauseated her. She peeked between her fingers to the stretch of treetops, resisting the sobs fighting to break free from her chest. Her body quaked from the sudden swell of emotion.

Christin leaned against Agnes' arm reassuringly, wrapping her arms around it and holding her close, her cold cheek pressed against her skin gave her a chill. "Sometimes I wish she was downright evil and that all of these pleasantries were a façade," she said, her voice shuddering. "That everything is just a giant ploy to help that scary husband of hers conquer the Byzen kingdoms easily, but the more time we spend here, the less I'm convinced she's got a mean bone in her. I spied on her and caught her with Koumei trying to use Kou Empire resources to find Eris and Demetr."

Agnes needn't say a thing. She shared Christin's sentiment.

If Asta was secretly evil, it would be easier for Agnes to hate her. She felt almost determined to dislike the princess because of what happened, as if it were an inheritance that passed down onto her. It forced Agnes to reconsider her feelings towards Nikias, because if she had loved him beyond physicality and ambition she didn't understand what she was doing. She didn't understand her purpose. The importance people seemed to place on her attachment to the prince confused her. Why was any of it important? Would it make any difference if she had been in love with him?

Did she love him? Was that still a relevant question after his death?

"She's probably scared out of her wits about to make that speech of hers right," said Christin.

Agnes dried her eyes as best as she could and noticed Baron strolling the grassy area below in the fields stretching between the castle and the edge of the forest. He carried a small burlap sack in his right hand and a large brown satchel across his body. A large black dog stalked behind him, following the clicking of his tongue, wagging his furry tail eagerly.

Baron slowed his pace, stopping briefly to lift his eyes up, meeting Agnes', and her cheeks inflamed. She dropped her gaze as Christin waved enthusiastically at him.

"Where did you find that dog?" shouted Christin. "What are you doing?"

"Refilling the birdhouses with the stable boy," called Baron, his voice carrying over without him having to raise it. "Would you like to join?"

Christin turned to Agnes and said, "Better than standing around crying. Let's go."

The short magician ran to flight of stairs to the open courtyard downstairs and joined Baron. Agnes followed at a slowed pace, trying her best to look presentable by the time she reached Baron's side. She didn't want to talk about her puffy eyes or her feelings.

Baron handed her a burlap sack full of birdseeds without asking her a thing and gave them instructions on where to find the feeders as Elis Rapp, a stable boy, told him. Agnes broke away from Baron and Christin to take care of a few feeders deeper inside the forest.

As she neared a tiny wooden house strung by a tree branch, she heard a weak chirping and searched the area until she found the source of the sound in a fallen nest. The baby bird tweeting in pain had a broken wing upon closer inspection.

She cradled it in her hand and watched it twitch. She reached for her wand as a shadow fell across her and heard the rustling of clothing as Baron crouched down next to her, his shoulder pressed against hers. As he settled in place, Agnes was embarrassed to realize that she didn't possess her wand. She and her magicians gave them up on Koumei's request. He promised to return them until they were trusted enough that their magic would not be used against them.

Baron offered to take it from her and she lowered it in the palm of his hand. He stood, cupping his other hand over it to secure it, and gestured her to follow him. On their way out of the forest, they ran into the freckled stable boy who directed them to a well of water for them to wait until he brought the box of things he used for situations like those.

"Do you think birds drop out of these trees with broken wings so often he has a box?" asked Agnes.

"It's probably a common first aid kit," answered Baron, chuckling.

"Shouldn't you carry one of those around? Your brother being so problematic, I assume he gets hurt often."

"Nothing he can't take care of."

"You think very highly of your brother."

"Is that strange? Don't you have someone you think highly of?"

She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat, heart picking up its pace. She thought of her father sitting by her bed telling her stories of Nohr, the image of him burning away from her memory as quickly as she thought of him.

"Not anymore."

"Then you understand the feeling?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say that it was strange," she said quickly, hoping to speak all of the right words and upon realizing her inert desire to do so wishing that she could take it all back. How could this man leave her so frazzled?

Agnes watched Baron take great care of the bird, cleaning the blood from its wound, careful of its damaged wing, delicate with its feathered body. He treated its broken wing well once the stable boy reappeared with a box that was indeed a common first-aid kit full of medical tape and gauze, handmade ointments and antibacterial balms. He taped its wing in its natural position against its small fragile body and chuckled when it toppled over in his palm trying to adjust to using a single wing.

Baron handed the bird to Elis, who promised to care for it until it was fully healed and he could release it back into the wild. The Hassahan prince washed his hands clean in the bucket of water as Agnes stared up into the aqua sky, the clouds bunching together as if preparing for a storm but the sun shone brightly, warming the skin, despite the wind being cold.

Agnes unconsciously rubbed her left arm, her skin erupting into gooseflesh from a sudden chill that made her teeth clatter. Baron being the gentlemanly prince that he was removed his kaftan and put it on her shoulders.

"This is completely unnecessary," Agnes told him, uncomfortable enveloped in his body heat and the hint of patchouli in his cologne.

"The weather here is different from Corrin," he replied, holding the top of his kaftan until she pushed her arms through the sleeves. "Corrin tends to have a warmer climate, like Baryon and Lorah. Hassah tends to be in the middle. Ione and Nohr are farther up, closer to the northern pole where it's colder."

"I wasn't exactly checking weather patterns when I decided to travel to Ione, but thanks."

Silence spread between them like a fog and she wondered if it would be better for her to walk away to find Christin. She wished she knew where she ran off.

"Asta should be getting back soon," he said, shattering the quiet. "She'll want to see you."

"Why would you say that?"

"Because she likes you."

"I doubt I've warranted enough for her to like me. She probably thinks I hate her or that I'm plotting against her or that I blame her for Nikias."

"Do you?"

"You are very persistent."

Baron smiled. "I'm curious."

"She's not bad, is she?"

"No, but she is only eighteen. I doubt either one of us was making sound decisions at that age. How much can we blame her for? Truly?"

She wouldn't deny he had a point.

"What were you doing at that age?"

"Finishing magic school. You?"

"I started my first agricultural project back home."

"Sounds like a breeze."

"It was only me."

"_Fascinating. _You are turning out to be quite the impressive prince."

"Perhaps our merits aren't good examples when it comes to Asta," suggested Baron.

"I don't know. She's made one of the best marriage matches possible in this day and age," replied Agnes. "She has a lot of potential as a magician too. I'd wager she's doing better than either one of us was at her age judging by support system alone."

Baron reached out to pat her shoulder. "See, you like her too."

"What?"

"Well, you wouldn't have anything nice to say about her if you didn't."

"Wait, did you trick me into saying nice things about the princess?"

"I didn't need to. Asta told me that you bought her a blueberry cake for her birthday."

"Carina bought her that cake, I only accompanied her."

"She's grown on you, admit it?"

Agnes refused, turning away quickly without saying so. "The princess should be coming home soon. You should go back to the castle to greet her."

"And you?"

"Well, us peasants are required to hang around outside until Prince Koumei or the princess summons us to the castle."

"I'll see you when they do."

Agnes watched him walk away from her and looked down to his kaftan. She pulled it closed, shrinking in it, the collar grazing her cheeks. She covered her face and sank down into a crouched position. The heat wrapping itself around her was foreign. She didn't know it. She hated it, but it comforted her.

She felt needlessly empty. The urge to cry nearly overpowered her.

How many people would she have to lose in pursuit of her ambition? How many more was she willing to sacrifice?


	50. (16) Volatile Kingdom - Pt 3

**VOLATILE KINGDOM** | BO XIA

*** i** *

"_Geir told me you're like your mother," Bo started, tapping the surface of the round table in the princess' room. She tinkered with the small bottles she collected atop its surface, mixing the ingredients to a magical concoction._

_Asta looked up from the book on her lap. "The castle physician said? In what regard?"_

_"You have a weak constitution like your mother." Bo expected complications. One or two of them, after becoming acquainted with Asta, she honestly anticipated more than a couple. "You're an only child because your mother couldn't carry her children to term."_

_"But that was my mother," said Asta, seated atop her bed. "I'm the almighty. I don't even get sick that easily."_

_"You don't bleed regularly."_

_"That would be a problem for anyone—"_

_"This is not the time for jokes," snapped Bo. "This is serious. If you cannot provide an heir, the Kou Empire's investment in you would be a waste. You'll be cast aside."_

_A small voice in the back of Bo's mind considered Asta's worst case scenario her best. The alternative being too terrible to speak._

_Asta shut her book, appearing grim. "What am I supposed to do if my body doesn't want to work the way it needs to? I don't want to be cast aside. The Kou Empire has done so much for me and if I can't give Kouen even the slightest hint of reassurance in his position, I feel like I'd failed more than his country and people, I've let down mine and those that gave up their kingdoms to the Kou Empire for me."_

_"I think waiting for children would be a sound decision," stated Bo, mixing the several liquids into a pink infusion. "You should discuss it with your husband when he returns. He will listen."_

_Asta climbed out of bed and walked up to Bo, snatching the pink infusion from her. "I still want to know if I am or not."_

_"The likely chance is that you're not," said Bo, reaching for the potion, but Asta pulled it close to her chest. "You've never been regular. Missing a month of your moon blood is normal for you."_

_"I'm curious." Asta looked down at the potion. "What do I have to do?"_

_"Drink that. Wait a minute. Prick your finger and let a droplet of blood fall into the same bottle."_

_Asta gulped it down wordlessly. Her face twisted because of their bitter taste, but she didn't waste a drop. She waited the allotted time and pricked her finger with a long needle on the table, squeezing a droplet of blood into the long-necked flask._

_"How do we know?"_

_It changed color if she was._

_"It will take a few days," answered Bo. "It'll change colors if you aren't."_

_"Will I know before I leave to Astoria?"_

_"Probably. Probably not."_

_"Lady Bo, you're acting strange, this isn't like you."_

_"What isn't?"_

_"You've been telling me to prioritize providing Kouen with an heir and now you're okay with waiting. I appreciate the open mindedness, but it isn't like you. Is it because of my constitution?"_

_"Waiting is a good idea after some reconsideration. Your situation could improve within the next few years."_

_"And if it doesn't?" asked Asta._

_"We'll have to see," answered Bo, curt. "With time, of course."_

_"What about the concubines? What about my duty?"_

_"I'm proud of your interest, but you were right in suggesting to wait. I'm accepting that, you should accept that I'm accepting it." _

_"I can accept that," said Asta, her eyes on the bottle, curious to see if there were any changes. "But what do I do if Kouen doesn't want to wait?"_

_"Listen, you are going to have to do everything in your power to convince him that it's the best option. Given that you're so sure he won't stray, I think you can manage this."_

_Asta looked a bit reluctant, smiling weakly. "Yes, I suppose I could give it a try."_

_Hm. Bo stared at Asta wishing she could wholeheartedly believe her, but that tone didn't make her feel any security in Asta's earlier proclamation. Bo wouldn't be confident in this until the years revealed whether Kouen would or wouldn't take on concubines._

_"What?"_

_"I wonder if our king is truly satisfied with you."_

_"He is. I asked him and he told me."_

_"You asked him?" repeated Bo aghast._

_"How else would I know?" Asta folded her arms across her chest, proud._

_"I hope you weren't rude."_

_"I wasn't," she claimed, but she had a guilty look about her that made Bo suspicious._

_Bo left the glass bottle atop the mantle of the fireplace, situated between a painted frame and a vase of red carnations. _

* * *

Bo expected Koumei's presence in Ione the instant she learned Kouen would visit. Very rarely did the two brothers spend time apart, almost always operating in different jobs within the same vein of work—war and conquest being a common factor in their lives. Kouen worked in the forefront, supreme commander of the Western Subjugation Army, and Koumei his shadow, leading the war councils with strategies that led them to victory.

Kouha was young, but he was ideal. Although, Bo would argue that if Hakuryuu was not as young as he was, he would have been the true ideal. The Fourth Prince possessed the royal blood needed to cement Ione to their side without involving Kouen. However, the benefit of Kouen's unexpected commitment was a quicker conquest of the Byzen kingdoms. As such, having Kouen marry Asta was not perceived as a complete loss.

_"If there comes a time when he is necessary beyond his current means"—_Bo recalled the soft voice in her mind as she watched her underlings go about their chores, all of them excited to have Asta return home—_"you get rid of his foreign bride."_

Bo never refused the orders issued to her by her superiors, but she questioned them. _"What if she is the magician you seek?"_

Recalling the chilling smile her question had gotten disturbed her to her core, even presently, invasive like a parasite. _"She will die either way."_

Bo oversaw Asta's attendants, half of the girls working diligently to pack the last of Asta and Kouen's things. The other five were in the western wing preparing the royal chambers for habitation. Since Hákon's death, the chambers had been empty and being that they were the largest and most luxurious rooms in the castle, they went to Asta.

Hua removed the withered red carnations from the vase on the mantle while another attendant took the painted frame, the glass bottle sitting between the two objects remained untouched, its contents shimmered a pale blue. The expensive, breakable items were all wrapped and stored into a crate that would be transported downstairs to a storage room.

A knock on the heavy oak door disrupted the work flow, but a glare from her returned the attendants to their business. She recognized the man at the entrance as one of Koumei's and received the summons to meet with the second prince. She left Hua in charge before excusing herself to see the prince, pensive about the subject of their conversation.

The prince was holed up in Ingrid's library. He stood in the second floor's landing behind the overflowing desk, attention rapt on a book opened on the surface.

Bo ascended the stairs along the wall. The shelves on her way up were stripped bare after Kouen and Koumei thoroughly inspected the library and reorganized everything temporarily into stacks along the steps, the floors, and the shelves downstairs that only they knew how to maneuver.

She bowed before him and waited for him to speak.

"I want to speak to Asta after she's settled," said Koumei, not regarding her with a look.

"I'll send her to you after dinner."

The prince nodded wordlessly.

"Pardon my impudence, my prince, but I worry that I may have offended you," said Bo.

"How?"

"I find that you are very guarded around me."

Koumei lifted his eyes to her face. "Why was mother so interested in Asta?"

"Oh, you mean in that her majesty assigned me?"

"She holds you in high regard if I recall correctly."

"Why wouldn't the empress express an interest in the woman that will undoubtedly succeed her? Think of it in terms of circumstances. Had this been years back, before the death of the First Emperor and his oldest sons, and if the marriage between our king and princess had gone through the same, things would have been different. I am merely following orders."

Koumei closed the book on the table, turning his body in her direction. "I suppose you're right," he said. "Asta is my sister now and I want her to stay that way."

Bo straightened at the sound of heavy footfalls approaching fast and the door slammed open, Vilhelm stormed in with Fu spilling inside into a bow. Both breathing hard, beads of sweat on their foreheads, she heard the audible gulps the two had taken before the blond captain dropped onto his knees, leaning forward with his head hung low.

"We can't find Asta!"

Almost simultaneously, Fu added, voice full of disappointment, as she groveled on the floor beside the captain, "We searched everywhere."

Bo felt her body react, skin flushed in gooseflesh, and after a proclamation like Koumei's, the one that sounded like a threat, she could not help the words that exited her mouth as she half-turned to face him.

"How unfortunate of you to have made such a declaration and already failed in keeping her safe."

* **ii** *

_"…the vǫlur of Ione," said Bo, reading out of the black tome in her master's hand. "Where is Ione?"_

_The man peered down at her, his face half hidden behind a checkered mask and framed by long blond hair. "It's located north across the Byzen Sea."_

_Bo knew about the magic kingdom located on the Byzen Sea and asked if Ione was near Nohr to which he responded with praise for recalling that tidbit from last week's lessons with her history tutor. She had had several teachers since her master picked her up four years ago from her magic instructor._

_"Are the vǫlur of Ione strong magicians?"_

_"They are good at what they are known for," he told her, "and they're a dying breed."_

_"How many are left?"_

_"There are only two of them left in Ione—one of them no longer practices and the other is too old to last another five years."_

_"Do they do magic like us?"_

_"Yes."_

_"Ok, but what makes them so special?" Although categorized as magicians, the vǫlur of Ione were written in outside the pyramid of magic users._

_"They have a proclivity for Clairvoyance Magic."_

_She puffed out her cheeks, struggling with the word "proclivity" until he explained its meaning to her. Understanding the definition, however, did nothing to increase her knowledge on the vǫlur, but it did fuel her curiosity._

_"They're weak magicians then," she decided, staring into the text. "This says they don't have a lot of magoi."_

_"Underestimating them could cost you your life, they're tricksters."_

_"That doesn't explain why they're not ranked with the witchdoctors and other low-magoi magic users," she said, frustrated by the thought of them existing outside of the pyramid. There were other types of magic users good at Clairvoyance magic like fortunetellers._

_"That is more because they so happen to use magic, but the vǫlur have a different function in this world…"_

Bo searched the Hult Province's abundant forests and sought the relief of knowing that Asta was lost somewhere inside of them, not in danger where she would sit enduring abuse and anticipating death. Bo imagined Asta in the furthest recesses of her mind, somewhere dark and damp with a leaky faucet. Would the sounds of the droplets coincide with the beating of her heart? Would she count them to pass the long hours, her skin blooming violet? Would tears drop from the corners of her eyes and run their course down her bloodied cheeks?

She cursed her mind for thinking it, but Asta could have been captured to be tortured until Freja felt satisfied by the violence. Freja was cruel, but Bo had at one point been crueler. There were many instances in which Bo had been and the memories flooded her mind in all their raw, violent, and depraved glory like a long string of never-ending shame being pulled from the bottom of an abyss.

Bo lost herself in the forest on a small glimmering hope that the midwife made true to the curse she spat at her feet the first and last time that Bo had ever hope to meet her. If that were the truth, the princess would be where the old woman's hut was, hidden away like the pearl in an oyster.

Losing oneself in the forest was the only hope one had in finding the midwife's residence, otherwise the magic keeping it from sight would do its work. It was a unique spell for the vǫlur —the longer you looked for the object cloaked by the power of the spell, the less likely you were to find it. Locations were trickier than objects because once the item was found, the magic was finished. A place protected by the spell guided people away, but once inside it's vicinity, it trapped them.

Bo had fallen into its snare after stumbling into the forest, copper in her mouth and her right arm wrapped tight against her body. It took her hours to break free of Maeve's magic and a little longer to return to Io Castle, looking as impeccable as she left it. Keeping Asta safe meant trapping her within the confines of the Byzen Sea. That was Maeve's solution. If Asta was the person Bo was seeking—a part of her continued to deny the shrinking possibility that Asta wasn't—she'd have to take her to the Rakushou.

Bo cast aside thoughts of her mission because despite the details, the result would be the same. In the end, Asta would die and Bo's heart tightened like a fist.

There was no trace of Asta to be found in the forest, not even the ghost of a presence. Magic led her in circles. Exhaustion clawed at her limbs, the weight of them doubling with every mile she covered in uncomfortable footwear. She didn't have the build or stamina to cover the entirety of the Hult Province on her own, but she wasn't willing to impart her knowledge of Maeve to anyone. Nobody needed to know anything about the wet nurse.

Bo returned to Io Castle disappointed by her failure. She entered through the service stairs and took a longer route to her bedroom to avoid contact. She locked the door behind her and started to undress. Her position came with a few perks, the important one being that she didn't share her room with anyone, though that didn't give her the glamorous lifestyle people assumed she had for being the empress' favorite. She only owned a few things, so little that her she couldn't find what to put in all the drawers of her dresser or in the armoire. Her narrow bed sat up against the wall with a wobbly table beside it, above that was a tall window with heavy moss-colored drapes. She owned a small rug she kept stored in her closet, too afraid to wear it out. Its pattern was common back home, in fact, she could purchase another that looked the same, but she wouldn't feel like using it anymore, not when she'd watched her mother tirelessly embroider the pattern onto its surface. There wasn't any need for her to have more than she did.

The skirts of her robes were sullied with mud and wrinkled. Her hair was sprouting out of the bun, strands of black falling in her periphery as she wiped her skin clean with a soap and water soaked washcloth. She double checked the hour in a silver pocket watch and fixed the way her clean clothes now hung from her lean frame before she took out a mirror from inside the top drawer of her desk.

Bo released her hair from its bind and it fell down a sheet of black on either side of her face. She combed it all back tight at the back of her nape and wrapped a black ribbon around the base to keep it in place. She took several minutes to style it, starting over when she found a strand was out of place, and blinked at her reflection in the mirror. Her cheeks were too high, face too long—inelegant—and her eyes too brown, eyelashes downcast. She returned the mirror to its place in her drawer, tired of her imperfections, and with a deep breath at the door, exited her bedroom.

She walked to the western wing to check on the progress the girls had made since she left them. Fu stood outside the double doors leading into the royal chambers, hands clasped together in front of her and her eyes downcast, face frozen in guilt. Fu's job entailed protecting the princess and she failed. The young attendant understood the gravity of her negligence and she waited in silence for what she perceived was her much deserved punishment. The anticipation and expectation of waiting was enough, her guilt would hurt her more.

The physical punishment that Vilhelm faced from his vice-commander would heal, but Bo was too familiar with that type of discipline to know it healed too fast for the lesson to sink in.

Bo stopped inches from crossing the threshold, drawn to a commotion downstairs. She turned on her heel at the sound of the word "princess" and heard the rush of footsteps behind her, of others that joined her halfway to the foyer.

Koumei was present, eyebrows furrowed. He held his fan high to cover the lower half of his face, but the doubt in his eyes couldn't be hidden. Bo surveyed the room of curious servants settling in and the soldiers from the search groups standing solemn, exhausted, while their captain stood silent in front of Koumei upon delivering his news.

"What's happened?" demanded Bo.

The prince looked at her briefly. "They found a body in the streets of Astoria."

There was a loud gasp behind her. Bo turned to acknowledge the moment one of her attendant's caught Fu in her arms, the horror drained the color from her face.

"You cannot mean to assume it's the princess," said Bo, her heart rushing. "She hasn't been missing long enough, it wouldn't make any sense for her to…to be dead."

"I want you to go confirm the corpse's identity," ordered Koumei. "Until you return, nobody moves. All search parties are to be temporarily halted. Go."

Bo accompanied a soldier to the location of the body. They rode for several minutes to Astoria, her heart a stone in the sea of her body. The corpse was not moved from the narrow back alley where it'd been found, but the area was closed off to the public, manned by a wall of soldiers.

She recognized the silk fabrics on the corpse despite their tattered and filthy appearance, but the body itself was unrecognizable. Beaten and broken like a rag doll, face swollen two times its normal size—black and purple on skin that was porcelain once. The light hair caked in blood and mud, matted against a dented skull.

Bo approached the body, stunned. She lowered herself into a crouch, hand reaching for her hidden wand. She couldn't stomach the stench of rot coming off the dead girl's flayed skin, but swallowed down the bile that rose to her throat.

Upon closer inspection, Bo sank back on her haunches, expelling a deep breath. "This isn't the princess."

The places on her body that weren't marked or covered in bruises, didn't have the light spray of freckles that Bo knew Asta had.

Bo gathered herself and turned to the soldier that brought her asking to return to the castle.

"Take her body to someone that can identify her," she said, walking towards the soldiers' barricade. It was important they learn who the corpse was if whoever killed her went through the trouble of putting her in the princess' clothes. What message were they trying to get across? Was this what they planned to do to Asta when they found her? Bo terrorized herself by imagining that Asta was already captured and that this dead girl was an example of what they should expect.

* **iii** *

"Am I being accused of killing that girl?" asked Brita, seated with her hands folded over her lap. "How? She went missing _after _she left the castle."

The dead girl was Bjorn. According to information she gathered from the people that knew her, Bo understood that Bjorn worked as the housekeeper in the royal house of Astoria.

"Why do you assume I have anything to discuss with you about the dead girl?" queried Bo, standing in front of Brita.

"You never approach me unless you're accusing me of something."

Bo smiled down at the insufferable woman. Brita's kindness was enough of a mask to fool the princess, but Bo could smell the betrayal a mile away. The day that Bo arrived to Ione, prepared to assume her position as Asta's caretaker, she met Brita, a beautiful young woman that appeared, on the surface, to care about the princess beyond her job's requirements. It was the way Brita looked at Asta when the princess wasn't looking that tipped Bo off, as if she were conflicted about serving her.

Asta loved Brita and she'd remain blind when it came to Brita. Whatever reasons Brita had to dislike the princess, they wouldn't be important to Asta, even if she felt betrayed by her ex-attendant.

"It is suspicious to be so defensive," stated Bo.

Brita jumped to her feet, scandalized. "How would you feel in my position? To be accused of treason when you were born and raised to live and breathe the royal house?"

Bo smiled. "I came to ask you to leave the castle. Temporarily, of course."

"Why?"

"You're not allowed to ask why. So, if you will vacate the premises, that would be an immense help."

Bo followed Brita to the foyer and watched the guards push the heavy doors shut behind her. With all of the uninvited guests escorted out, the servants in their quarters, and the Castle Guard in their outdoor barracks, Bo went to the western wing's banquet hall where Koumei, his assistant, Chuu'un, Baron, and the Magnostadt magician, Agnes, waited for her arrival. The latter two looked glum.

Bo didn't question why Agnes was in the room. She figured there was a good reason for Koumei to permit her presence.

"Everyone has been sorted," announced Bo.

Koumei nodded, turning briefly to Baron and Agnes on his right. "I've considered our options carefully considering our next course of action," he started. "Finding Asta is our priority and while it may benefit us to announce her disappearance and use the entire country to search for her and offer a reward, she could easily fall into enemy hands."

"How can we be sure that she isn't already in enemy hands?" asked Agnes.

"Sure, that's a possibility," agreed Koumei, "and I would have supported it had we not discovered a dead woman dressed as the princess in the streets of Astoria. The body was damaged beyond recognition, which tells me that there's a possibility whoever killed this girl hoped that she would be mistaken for the princess and that it'd serve to light a fire in the dwindling revolution or that it'd fool us long enough that our enemies would gain an upper hand in their search for her. The truth is Asta jumped into a crowd of her own citizens and ran."

"This doesn't seem like her," said Baron. "Something must have happened."

Koumei agreed. However, he didn't have an explanation as to what that something was. Bo caught Baron staring at her and she redirected her eyes to Agnes, who stared pensively out one of the windows lined on the opposite wall.

"Would Asta have any reason to want to run away?" asked Koumei, looking at Bo. "It could mean the difference."

Bo thought about the glass bottle on the mantle with its shining pale blue contents.

"She's with child."

Everyone in the room reacted in collective shock, all of them gaping at her, having expected anything but the truth of the situation they formulated in their minds. This was a half-truth, but that information wasn't pertinent.

"The princess wouldn't have wanted for me speak, but if this could serve as anything other than a motive, I will break our trust for the safe retrieval of her highness," continued Bo, exaggerating every pause to emphasize her reluctance. She watched her small audience hung on every word. The mortification on Koumei's face, the gravity of the situation doubling with the revelation of a child—a future prince, the heir of their empire—and Baron, understanding it to the same degree, while Agnes and Chuu'un remained silent in their shock. "The problem is her body. The castle physician isn't certain our princess will be able to carry a pregnancy to term, no without proper care. It was a problem with her mother, and although, Princess Asta was healthier by comparison, recent events seem to have weakened her. She was shaken by the thought."

With the semblance of an explanation for Asta's actions, Koumei guided the conversation towards a possible solution, stressing the importance of finding Asta, now with two lives at stake.

"It would be best for the search to continue in secret," said Koumei. "We contain all news concerning or speculating about my sister's whereabouts to this castle. To dispel doubt, we'll have to use a double, someone that will speak to the people again as Asta and live every day as her until we locate her."

"In that case, I suggest your small magician friend," said Bo, looking at Agnes.

"Christin?"

"She and the princess are around the same height. I would assume a disguise wouldn't be too hard for her to do."

Agnes grinned, folding her arms across her chest. "Not at all."

Koumei gave Chuu'un orders to relay to the leaders of the search squads, dismissing him upon finishing, and turned to Agnes to explain what he needed Christin to do. Bo was tasked with overseeing that Christin did her job and she exited the room with Agnes to deliver the news to the short magician.

"You know, I was under the impression that Prince Koumei was smarter than he looked, but I can't believe he bought your bullshit," said Agnes, inspecting her nail beds.

"What reason would I have to lie to the prince about my charge? The princess is of the utmost importance to me, I'd never attempt to interfere in trying to find her," said Bo calmly. "She ran off somewhere frightened and carrying the heir to the empire she'll inherit at her husband's side. I'm worried about her safety."

"I'm not questioning whether you care about the princess or not, my problem is that you're clearly hiding something and are using her child to divert the attention."

Bo almost smiled. Agnes would be a challenge. "Well, if I ever feel an inclination to come clean, I'll be sure to credit you for your superb observational skills."

Agnes laughed, catching up to Bo's stride and elbowing her. "We're going to get along well, Lady Bo."

"Let us hope."

Bo and Agnes caught Christin attempting to sneak food to a reluctant Fu. Upon noticing them, Christin tried to hide the platter of food behind her and seem nonchalant.

"I've asked you to stop meddling," Agnes scolded, offering her hand to Christin, palm up.

Christin glumly placed the platter atop Agnes' hand. Christin glared at Bo. "I wouldn't have to sneak around if this monster wasn't starving her."

"Avert your eyes if you're offended," said Bo. She gestured down the hall, looking to Agnes. "Should we take this somewhere private?"

Agnes had to take Christin by the wrist to take her into the empty room Bo chose to have their talk. Christin sat down on a narrow, uncomfortable couch and was briefed on Koumei's expectations for her. She listened without once interrupting, her expression devoid of discernible emotion.

"What happens if the husband shows up? Am I going to have to sleep with him?" asked Christin, distressed. "I mean, he's a looker, but he's like three times my size. That's way too much man for my—"

"Nobody asked you to sleep with him!" interrupted Agnes. "And obviously if he showed up, he'd know you weren't his wife!"

"Well, is he going to show up?"

"Prince Koumei doesn't wish to interfere in his majesty's foreign affairs and wants to resolve this as quickly and quietly as possible," answered Bo.

Kouen being present wouldn't make a difference and he would know that. He wouldn't travel to Ione for this reason alone, he'd entrust it to his brother, confident that Koumei will resolve the problem efficiently.

"And while you don't have to worry about fulfilling a wife's duties in your disguise," continued Bo, "you are required to go through the princess' day to day without flaw. I have high expectations, Christin, do not disappoint me."

As Bo exited, she heard Christin ask, "Is she serious? Is this seriously happening?"

"We don't have a choice until Princess Asta is found," replied Agnes.

Bo swore she would find Asta.


	51. (16) Volatile Kingdom - Pt 4

**VOLATILE KINGDOM** | BRITA GRAHN

| **i** |

_Werner and Asta returned home with a dirty kitten instead of the pheasants they promised. Brita took one look at their filthy appearances, both the adult and preteen, lowered their eyes, avoiding her gaze in shame, behaving like scolded children before she opened her mouth to reprimand them. They tracked mud into the castle with their ruined boots, their blond heads caked in sludge, and their guilty faces covered in large smudges of dirt. _

_Brita expelled a breath, exhausted by the mere sight of them. "I'll order a bath to be run for the pair of you."_

_Asta grabbed a hold of Werner's sleeve, looking to him in silent plea. In her arms, the kitten mewled distressed, shivering in the cold noon after last night's storm._

_Werner appeared sheepish. There was a remarkable innocence and youth in his face, which was a vast contrast to the king's—all beautiful lines, smoothness, and symmetry without the touch of the forty years he'd lived. His long golden hair stuck close to the skin of his neck, his blue eyes evoked a certain kindness and familiarity that made him easy to speak with in comparison to other members of Tjäder House, who were almost famous for being unapproachable snobs._

_Brita understood without having an exchange that whatever adventure these two arrived from was not quite done. She sighed again._

_"If you plan to wash that animal, do it in the servant's quarters."_

_Asta's lips split into a smile and she dragged Werner out of Brita's sight. Brita sought out someone to clean the mess that Werner and Asta trekked in before she followed their mess to the bath in the servant's quarters laughing over the squirming kitten._

_"Do not get attached," advised Brita. "You can't keep it."_

_Asta frowned, brow furrowed into a deep wrinkle. "I know that."_

_"We agreed that I would keep him and that she can visit him whenever she wanted," said Werner._

_"Lord Werner, excuse my rudeness, but I think you shouldn't have allowed her to take it," stated Brita, arms folded over her chest._

_Werner smiled awkwardly. "Yes, but...we couldn't leave him."_

_"His mom was dead," Asta told her, turning her head to meet her eyes. "He was shivering alone next to her. If we didn't bring him home, he would've died."_

_Brita allowed her the peace of mind in keeping the kitten for the four hours it took for Asta and Werner to bathe it and wash themselves. Later, Werner promised to keep the kitten for her and as he departed with it in a basket, bundled with warm blankets, Asta stood beside Brita shedding large tears onto the ground and said, with frightening certainty, "Joa will come back."_

_"_Yo-ah_?" questioned Brita. "You named him?"_

_She nodded. "He's mine. Werner said."_

_"Is that a name that you liked?"_

_"Dad told me he used to have a falcon named Joa growing up. I thought he might look at my Joa and think of his." She dropped her eyes to the ground, her hands scrunching up her skirt in front of her._

_"You shouldn't get so needlessly attached to Joa. He isn't yours, not truly. Your father's allergic, he won't let you keep him."_

_"What does it matter? My father is in the western wing and Joa would be here with me."_

_"Give up, princess, you can't have everything." Brita offered the princess her hand, wiggling her fingers in gesture. "Come on, you have your language instructor today."_

_Asta reluctantly took her hand and dragged her feet the entire way, bemoaning her absolute dislike of these lessons. Repeating the same argument that she always used wherever the Torran language was concerned, it was almost as dead as the people that spoke it._

_"It is something you are required to learn as per your father's instruction," said Brita, leading her to the quiet room where all of her lessons took place. "There are people in the Byzen Cluster that speak the language that you will one day have to interact with, so you cannot say that it's a useless skill to have."_

_"But it is, I can understand Octavia learning the language since the Torran village is off the coast of Baryon, but I'm in Ione. I'm not going to leave it, not if my dad has his way, so I'm not going to need it. I can't read it. It's too complicated. The common tongue is much easier."_

_Brita dropped the princess off with her instructor and went to take care of her chores for the next two hours. She had started working her way through tidying up the princess' messy bedchamber when she heard the familiar shout of the Baryonian instructor in the hallway and abandoned her work to hear the bedraggled man complain about Asta running out in the middle of the lesson._

_She wished this was an odd occurrence, but it was so common that it mentally exhausted her to deal with the aftermath. It took her a few stern words to calm the man down and she left him in the care of a servant in a downstairs sitting room, hoping that he would not feel inclined to tell the king about this recurring incident._

_Asta wasn't even in the castle grounds when Brita went to hunt her down. The princess took her horse from the stables and asked one of the farm hands to inform Brita that she ran away and planned to stay with Werner. Exasperated, Brita made plans to follow. If she didn't bring the princess back to the castle before the king became aware, she would hear about it, and she wanted to avoid Hákon by all means possible. He unnerved her._

_Despite all of her efforts, she couldn't convince the princess to return home and Hákon summoned Brita to his office after she arrived to the castle to change tactics. Bengt, the balding chamberlain, stood at his master's side with a smug look and his giant tome flat against his chest._

_Hákon remained seated behind his desk, an imposing figure with a startling nonchalance. He said nothing to her, but her eyes were glued to the floor and her hands limp at her sides in a weak attempt at cool composure. She worked in the castle for eight years, lived in a narrow room, gained friendships, experienced short romantic flings, and created connections—all of this, she did in the king's castle. _

_However, none of it prepared her for him, the man Freja despised so ardently—her brother and rival. Brita's job was to find weakness in him, one that they could exploit to their benefit, but she wouldn't be able to do it if she couldn't so much as meet his eyes._

_Brita understood Freja's expectations when she used her connections to ensure her assignment to Io Castle. Freja had taken Brita's face by the chin and forced her to meet her cold eyes a few hours before her interview. Her heart hammered wildly in her chest and if Freja heard it, she would call her weak, so she attempted to create a safe distance between them, but Freja's hand on her chin hardened._

_"Remember I didn't invest in you because you have potential as a lady-in-waiting," Freja had started, her handsome face close to Brita's. There weren't any traces of feminine softness or the expected grace of a noble in her face. It was all hard lines and strong jaw, a trademark Tjäder trait that skipped few of its members. Her nose was straight, perfectly sculpted to suit the rest of her features, her eyes a little on the narrow side and a pale shade of blue, her cheekbones high and proud. "You understand the need for ruthlessness and are not hesitant to commit the necessary steps to achieve your goals or preserve your dignity. You are a fighter. You are _my _fighter."_

_"Until I disappoint you…" Brita stared at Freja head on, the emotion clawing at her chest carved deeper at the hollow. "What will happen to me then?"_

_Freja released her face and her expression softened fleetingly. "The queen is crazy and out of sight. You will be her caretaker and will know her schedule better than anyone in the castle. The teacup princess is at the ripe age to be impressed upon. Be her friend, her sister, her mother, be her lover if it ever comes to that. She is our trump card, so you can never lose favor with her." Carefully, Freja brushed a strand of hair behind Brita's ear and Brita felt her face grown hot with the rush of her fingers. "Hákon must be lonely. He is a man too."_

_She understood the intended implication as she lowered her eyes once more. She recalled the words Magdalene Ljung said to her the day she had picked her up from the streets, "Women have different strengths. It is not always the brute strength of a man, but in the time that we do not possess physical strength, we make up for it with all the other things that we can do." Magdalene had used all of her cunning and feminine wiles to get to a position where she thrived. Letting Freja take Brita had been Magdalene's way of pushing her to find the same opportunity._

_Standing before the king, Brita wasn't in any position where she could ever hope to flourish._

_"The professor complained about Asta's absence today," Hákon began. Brita cursed the Baryonian man, but she supposed anyone would have if they had wasted nearly the amount of time he had in trying to school an absent princess. "I heard she escaped to Werner's and that you weren't able to convince her to return." He calmly brought his hands together, elbows propped up on his desk, and leaned forward, his eyes bright blue with malice. His expression hard. "Is it truly that difficult for you to handle one girl? What is the problem?"_

_"Forgive me," she said, bowing low. She would sink to her knees if that helped her situation, but it wouldn't._

_"What is the problem?" _

_Although, the king repeated himself, he did it in a way that indicated he would not do so again. He didn't want to hear her apologies. He kept her in his presence because it concerned his daughter, but beyond that, Brita was as insignificant as a bug. This man couldn't be charmed by the strengths that earned her the opportunity to serve Freja. He was a troublesome obstacle in the fulfillment of Freja's ambitions—in the utopia she wished to create and govern._

_"After she returned with Werner, she brought back a kitten. I told her that she couldn't keep it—"_

_"Why would you deem it your place to tell her what she can or cannot keep?" _

_Brita swallowed hard, hands clenching at her sides. "I apolo—"_

_"If she wishes to keep a pet, she can keep a pet."_

_"But your majesty, your allergies," interjected Bengt._

_"Asta is aware of them and she will do what she can to keep the animal away from me. She's not a child."_

_"Understood, my king."_

_Hákon looked at Brita directly. "What are you waiting for? Leave."_

_She jolted visibly and exited after a sloppy curtsy. She clenched her teeth as she rushed down the western tower steps and hunted Vilhelm down. She caught the blond captain sipping alcohol with a few of his comrades and she made her presence known by snatching the cup from his hand. The laughter subsided immediately and everyone looked at her shocked._

_"Get off your ass and bring the princess back from the Senior Commander's home!" she ordered._

_"Did the king order—?"_

_"I'm ordering it! Go do it before I tell the king of your incompetence!"_

_Vilhelm frowned, standing. "Fine."_

_She heard him grumbling a complaint on his way past her. "I can hear you!"_

_"That's the point!" he snapped, turning around. The others slowly departed at the feel of the sudden tension. "I don't know who gave you a shit cake for dessert after dinner, but you don't have to take it out on me. You can just ask me to do something and I'll do it. The princess is my responsibility anyway."_

_Brita exhaled, allowing the calm to suffuse her. "I'm sorry. I just met with the king. This has nothing to do with you. I'll make it up to you somehow."_

_Vilhelm smiled. "Don't worry about it. An apology is enough. I'll go pick the princess up."_

_"Tell her she can keep Joa. It'll be easier that way."_

_Vilhelm departed. _

_Brita felt ashamed about her behavior. This wasn't her. She didn't understand why she was acting the way that she was, but she didn't look for answers._

_Asta returned home with her kitten, proud of what she considered an accomplishment, and while she sat on the carpet watching the orange tabby sip warm milk with a sparkle in her eyes, Brita felt a strange darkness bleed into her chest._

_"Your stubbornness isn't anything you should be proud of," stated Brita, surprising the girl. Asta lifted her face to meet Brita's eyes with the same clear gaze as her father. "You didn't get to keep your cat because you ran away to Lord Werner's house and refused to leave until you got your way. Your father doesn't care for those things, just like he doesn't care about what you do as long as you stay out of his way."_

_A beat and Brita was breathing hard._

_Asta's eyes filled with tears and Brita swelled with an odd pride of her own, but that happiness was short lived and quickly replaced with shame. However, she was too prideful to apologize to the princess and excused herself instead. She couldn't stand to look at her._

_The tabby male brought Asta plenty of joy in the years to follow. She raised it in luxury and loved it deeply. It slept above her head in the middle of the night and appeared to dislike everyone but his tiny mistress. Brita spent enough time with the feline for it to eventually realize that he would have to deal with her for the rest of his life that hissing was useless and he learned to ignore her._

_One night, a year after Johan's conquest began and Brita's frustration unfolded, she lured the cat with silver vine to the open balcony above the castle's indoor courtyard and picked him up onto the balustrade. She hoped it died when she pushed him off, but it landed on its feet. It hurt itself, she was sure, because it remained stationary on the ground for an unusually long time before it scampered back into the forest with an echoing hiss._

_Brita held Asta in her arms, rubbing her back as she wept about her runaway cat the following day when Asta mobilized as many members of the Castle Guards she could convince to search for her cat._

| **ii** |

Brita heard about it from the chatty cooks in the kitchen, thought it was obvious from the suppressed buzz of the castle that something happened. She didn't know the details until it had fallen upon her to pick up the extra ingredients being provided to the guests in the Castle Guard's outdoor barracks and lingered at the side entrance with another cook, listening to a somewhat reliable account of the events that had transpired hours before.

"One of the search squads found the princess wandering the fields," the plump head cook whispered. "She was brought in through the courtyard. I caught a glimpse of her. The poor child looked frightened, exhausted and dirty. Nobody's heard what's happened since Lady Bo's kept her in her bedroom, but we'll probably know soon enough."

Brita took the woman's hands in her own, grasping them like a life line, and with every ounce of pitiful worry that she could muster, said, "If you learn anything else, please tell me."

An empathetic sparkle spun around the cook's light irises and she pressed her lips shut, nodding in affirmation. "Leave it to me, Miss Brita."

Brita was confident that the princess would call for her in time. Asta would want to hear about how Brita was adjusting and to apologize for any treatment she deemed unfair in their talk. Brita had plenty to complain about, subtly of course, but she planned to better her circumstances if possible.

However, no such call ever came. Brita received updates on the story surrounding the princess' disappearance and "rescue" from the head cook. The story as it was told to her was that Asta jumped into the crowd because she wanted her people to feel that she was dependable, someone they could be comfortable with—reminding them of the princess in whom they had placed all of their hopes and dreams before Freja and Bengt's smear campaigns. Next, the crowd swallowed her and pushed her towards the back, but she tried to return to the stage until she was grabbed. Asta didn't remember the rest of the day because someone had hit her in the back of her head, rendering her unconscious. She managed to escape from captivity and ran all the way to the Åkerman fields, fortunate to have been found by one of the search parties looking for her.

Brita wasn't in contact with Freja. Being under constant scrutiny, it was difficult for her to reach out to her boss and she couldn't confirm whether or not Freja was behind this recent attack on the princess. She focused on accumulating information, balancing her act by working her way into everyone's good graces until she came upon the opportunity to send information to Freja about the princess being located.

Brita scrubbed vegetables clean in the kitchen alongside a pair of Castle Guard recruits on kitchen duties. The space was small, crowded for three, and hot with the heat of a fire cooking beans a few feet away from her. She handed carrots to one of the recruits and he started to chop them into neat circles.

There were voices nearing the entrance of the kitchen and curious about who they belonged to, Brita looked over her shoulder. Carina trailed behind the pink-haired magician that Asta had brought back from Corrin. It was odd to see Agnes without her lime-haired sidekick, but that only meant that Christin wasn't too far away.

"Do we have any fruit in storage?" asked Agnes.

The magician was of average height with straight hair that fell down her back and a body that attracted the leering eyes of men and women alike. Rumor had it that she was involved with Prince Nikias of Corrin, which made sense. Corrinean royals had a taste for beautiful things and gorgeous people.

One of the recruits went straight to Agnes' aid, showing her all the fresh fruits they currently had in storage, while Carina sauntered over to Brita's side, leaning over her to rest her chin atop the crown of Brita's head.

"Guess what?" started Carina, casual in tone.

"I don't like guessing games, Carina," remarked Brita, hiding her annoyance.

"Right," grumbled Carina. "Well, the princess wants to see you. She's been asking for you a lot."

"What do you expect me to do with this information? Bo won't let me anywhere near the princess."

"Bo's like a super protective bear mother taking care of her cub. She's not letting anyone near the princess."

"She shouldn't be keeping her holed up in her room either," said Brita. "I understand the need to protect her, but if that's the way she plans to do it, she's no different from the king."

Carina drew back as Brita started to turn. The tall, blond soldier frowned. "The alternative being that she gets captured by her crazed aunt or Slimy Bengt and gets killed? This is temporary."

"That's what the king said about Ingrid."

"That was different," stated Carina, her blond eyebrows knitting in frustration. "You know that was different. Queen Ingrid was a danger to the princess."

"Why are you defending King Hákon? He was a monster!" snapped Brita. "How is it that you're okay with any of this? I understand wanting to help and the desire to trust, but we're being treated like strangers in our own homes. We are not the invaders, they are."

"You are, however," said Agnes, taking a bite out of an apple she shined on the sleeve of her flowy shirt. "About ninety percent of the population currently in this country are descendants of the warrior tribe from the north."

"We are not arguing semantics!" shouted Brita, realizing as soon as she said it that Agnes was the one to interrupt. "And mind your own business! You're as foreign as any of them!"

"Why don't we simmer down a notch?" suggested Agnes. "You're concerned for the princess, it's natural, you've been by her side since she was a little girl and it's completely understandable for you to dislike to Kou Empire—I'm not completely sold on them either—but you haven't seen the way Prince Kouen looks at her. And his brother, he wants to protect her. You should know that the last thing Prince Koumei would want is to upset his brother."

"They haven't known each other long enough," stated Brita. "Their marriage is a contract, Ione her dowry, and the Kou Empire's stepping stone to the rest of the Cluster. Are you not the least bit furious for what happened in Corrin? Do you not hate them for what they provoked?"

Carina stepped in between them. "_Oh-kay_, this is getting ridiculous, I get it, we're all angry, we all have concerns, but we have to focus all of our energy on our duties. Protect our princess. Nothing is more important."

"We should get going," said Agnes, thanking the recruit that handed her a heavy basket of fruit. "Lady Bo will flip if we're late."

Carina nodded, starting to follow Agnes out the door, but halted at the threshold, turning towards Brita, who fumed in silence. "Are you coming?"

"What?" asked Brita.

"If she doesn't want to come, we can just let Lady Bo know and she can revoke her entrance permanently," shouted Agnes, her voice echoing in the cold hallway. "Oh, the poor princess will be so sad!"

Brita didn't question this development. She pulled on an excited face and rushed after Carina, who was quick to wrap an arm around her shoulders, drawing her into a half hug.

"You don't need to get so upset, Brita," she advised. "We're all in difficult positions."

"You know how I get when it's about the princess," huffed Brita.

"You'll never guess what happened to the princess," started Carina, grinning from ear-to-ear.

"We're not allowed to spread that around, Carina," interjected Agnes.

"The princess will tell her anyways!"

"Let her say it then. It's her news."

News?

Brita walked in forlorn silence behind Carina and Agnes towards the western wing. Their steps bounced off the walls of the long hallways and the nearer Brita realized she was to the royal chambers, the more she acknowledged to never having ventured this far into the castle. She came to work in the castle to serve the queen when she had been locked in the eastern tower after the first time she made an attempt against her daughter's life. The furthest into the western wing that she had ever gone was the tower where the king had kept his office. They had long walked past the spiral staircase that wound up the tower, moving through an archway to reach the hallway that led into the most lavish section of the castle.

The royal family's collection of expensive antiques, paintings, and statues all decorated this part of the palace.

Carina stayed outside with Aghi, guarding the double door entrance into the interconnected royal chambers. Agnes handed the basket of fruits to a woman with black hair and an elegant mien that carried them to Bo in the room through an arched entrance behind the lavish sitting room furniture.

Brita bowed in recognition of the Hassahan prince dangling a weeping orchid in front of an overweight tabby that she recognized as the princess' pet. He brought back bad memories. Baron smiled at her as she stepped into the grand chamber through another pair of opened doors where Bo received the basket.

Agnes doubled back at the entrance to join Baron, plopping down into a plush armchair with a sigh. The cat hissed at Agnes and she cursed him to Baron's disapproval. Brita wondered how the foreign magician managed to gain access to the princess when she'd been treated as everyone else who wasn't in league with the Kou Empire, a potential danger.

"Brita!"

Brita followed the sound of Asta's voice and saw her seated in the middle of a large canopy in the center of the bedroom. The thick red drapes were tied to the posts, the covers were plush and of a similar ruby shade with gold embroidery. Asta appeared small in the new bed, there were fading purplish green contusions that ran from her face down underneath her white shift. Her left arm was wrapped in gauze from above the elbow to the fingers.

Bo intercepted Brita's beeline to the princess' bedside, her lips drawn into a thin frown. "You have five minutes."

Brita reached Asta and took a seat, smiling. "How are you?"

Asta lowered her eyes to her hands with a nervous laugh and twiddled her thumbs. "Okay…I guess."

Brita stole a glance at an exasperated looking Bo, standing at the entrance. She lowered her voice. "Are you really okay, Asta? What happened to you?"

She looked to her caretaker before responding. "I'm not—I can't say anything about that."

"You can send them away," whispered Brita.

Asta swallowed thickly. "I can't."

Brita frowned.

"Sorry."

"Why are you apologizing, princess?"

"Because I'm…I'm not myself, but I, I wanted to see you." Asta raised her eyes to meet Brita's and slid over, closer to her, and put her hand atop hers. "I talked with Prin—I talked with Koumei about letting you stay on as one of my attendants, but he says it isn't safe yet. Carina and Aghi aren't allowed to stay here long either."

"That's enough," said Bo, moving to the end of the bed. "The princess needs plenty of rest in her current condition."

"But I haven't told her yet—"

"This is ill advised."

"Are you seeing things again?" asked Brita.

Asta startled. "Ah, no, but I…I'm having a…child."

"What?"

"Yeah." She laughed strangely and raised her hands in a lackluster celebratory gesture. She wasn't the least bit happy. "Surprise."

"What has the physician had to say about it?" asked Brita, attempting to disguise her shock with concern. "Can your body handle a child?"

She looked at Bo again and that bothered her Brita. Did the caretaker finally succeed in brainwashing the princess completely? There was no other explanation for her strange behavior.

"It is high risk," answered Bo, "and for that reason she needs to rest."

Brita understood that was her cue to leave and rose from her seat. Asta started to follow, but Bo discouraged her with a stern look.

"I'll be fine. I'm just going to walk her to the door. You don't want me to be rude, do you?"

Bo huffed.

Brita waited for Asta to climb out of her bed and walk to her. They walked together to the room's entrance and as soon as they crossed the threshold, the orange tabby took one look at the princess and hissed.

Asta jolted at the sound and frowned down at the orange tabby.

Brita stopped, looking down at the princess, and asked, "Who—?"

Asta reached up to touch her own cheek and tugged at it. "What?"

No.

Brita shook her head, smiling at the princess. "Take care of yourself. Rest and eat plenty. You have to think of your country now that you're a step closer to securing your husband's throne."

The mixture of emotions dancing across Asta's face evaporated.

"Be happy." Brita reached out to touch the princess' cheek. "Nobody would dare hurt a pregnant woman."

She left Io Castle with a single thought blaring in her mind: that was not the princess.

Brita returned to the Castle Guard barracks, greeting everyone she encountered with a smile on her face as she made her way to the tiny room she shared with another two female recruits. She was grateful to find it empty and rummaged through her things to find a slip of parchment where she started to write a coded message to Freja, only she stopped herself as soon as her pen touched the surface.

She couldn't relay the information.

This was what they wanted.

It made sense why she was allowed to see the princess. Bo was setting her up because she knew the truth. She let her pen fall as a surge of anger replaced the realization. Bo couldn't tell the prince outright that Brita was in league with Freja. Did she know? She felt that was implied in the conversation they had before Bo released her from prison and spared her death. Bo _vouched _for her to Koumei, so she couldn't just spring it on the prince that Brita was the traitor all along. It would make her look bad.

There was a fake princess and Brita was invited to meet with her. She practically helped raise the damn princess. Of course, she would be among the people that knew Asta best.

This was a trap.

Brita crumpled the piece of parchment up and pocketed it. She wasn't a fool. She wouldn't fall for this trap.

The next time that Brita ventured inside the kitchen at Io Castle, she noticed an increase in cooks preparing more ingredients than normal. The plump head cook left her stew in the care of another cook to hand Brita a basket of ingredients.

"You're pretty busy," commented Brita. "Don't work yourself too hard."

"No choice," said the head cook. "With the Ionian House coming, everything needs to be perfect."

"The Ionian House was summoned?"

"You haven't heard? The princess sent out invitations yesterday morning. They'll be here in time for dinner."

Brita was drawn to the sound of the door on the opposite side opening and watched Bo stride in with an elegant smile, her sharp gaze quick to meet hers.

"Oh, Miss Grahn, I was about to have you called," said Bo after walking up to her.

"Did I do something wrong?" asked Brita.

Bo laughed. "Don't be silly, Prince Koumei requested that you be moved into the castle while the Ionian House nobility are visiting."

"Why?"

"Well, he believes that you're more acquainted with them because of your time with the princess and he wishes for them to be comfortable given that they're no longer dealing with his king brother."

"I will have to politely decline," said Brita.

"You're misunderstanding, Miss Grahn," started Bo, the smile on her face widening. "You aren't being asked if you want to be present, you are being told that you are going to be. Why don't you gather your things and wait for me in the downstairs sitting room, you know the one by the foyer. We're going to have to make sure that you at least look presentable."


	52. (16) Volatile Kingdom - Pt 5

**VOLATILE KINGDOM** | MIROSLAVA PETROVA

_Miroslava felt betrayed standing in the empty portrait scattered hall with Ilya bundled in her arms. His chin rested on her shoulder, the soft sounds of his breathing reached her. She copied the length of his soft exhales in a tired attempt to soothe herself. She wouldn't give into panic, but watching Roman stomp from one end of the room to the next, behaving like an overboiling pot with a shuddering lid, made it difficult. She sensed Roman's tension in the stagnant midnight air, heavy and thick, and it wrapped itself around her neck with every tick of the clock, she breathed it in and felt it snake around her organs, invasive like a parasite. _

_She swore never to doubt the feelings that convinced her that she wouldn't be able to live without this man, but the dark feeling was encroaching on her like an added weight and all of her limbs were exhausted by this dawning reality. She wished she could claw her eyes out and destroy her eardrums if it were the only way to avoid it, but the weight of her child's small body in her thin arms chased the thoughts away._

_You're jumping to conclusions, she decided. You are never so irrational._

_Roman's silence, however, made her anxious. It hadn't been long since he had been told a truth she wanted to deny from the instant the idea sparked in her mind. She didn't understand the extent of heartbreak and disappointment that Theodora must have experienced growing up as the only normal person in a household of magicians, but she witnessed her struggle enough to realize that she didn't wish her pain on anyone._

_Miroslava clung to her three-year-old boy, afraid to release him into Arina's care, though his nanny waited patiently outside the door to take him to his bedroom. The longer she held onto him, the longer she could go on avoiding the topic, but she refused to be a coward. _

_She kissed Ilya's black head, breathing in the crisp, clean scent of his peach shampoo, and told him that she loved him while assuring herself that she'd protect him. He wouldn't live the life Theodora lived. She wouldn't allow it._

_She walked to the entrance on the other side of the windows, above and all around the surface of the blackened walls were dozens of golden canvases with images of the previous occupants of Petrov Castle. All of them strong jawed, some with full beards and others without, and their glaring eyes were upon her as she opened the door, beckoning Arina's attention._

_The old woman took the slumbering prince with a slight inclination of her head and excused herself upstairs._

_Miroslava closed the doors and leaned against them, feeling her heart starting to flutter out of control._

_"Roman," she began, stepping towards him, hesitant in her approach. "This changes nothing. Ilya is still your son."_

_The man she married had been a reasonable person. He was kind and understanding. He wouldn't discard a boy—his son—for not being a magician. Being or not being shouldn't have affected their relationship negatively. She could accept that it would come as a shock, both of them hailed from prominent magician families in Nohr, but this happened. It wasn't uncommon._

_"It is an embarrassment," Roman spat, glaring at her. "My son, my _heir, _unmagical!"_

_"This means nothing!" snapped Miroslava. "Ilya will be as capable as any magical child! There's no reason you should feel—"_

_Roman rounded on her, frightening her into taking a step back. "Having you, you alone, I thought it would be enough to ignore your sister's existence." He took her firmly by the shoulders, his expression bright red with rage. "Your cursed ilk is to blame. This kingdom cannot be ruled by him. He cannot be my heir, I will not accept it!"_

_Miroslava pushed his hands off her, revolted. "He is and will be your only heir! I will not give you sons or daughters if this is the way you'll behave on the off-chance that they are not like me or you!"_

_"Your bad lineage caused this and you are wholly responsible with remedying it!" He grabbed her by the upper arm, his grip bruising. "You will give me an heir worthy of my crown or—"_

_She jerked out of his grasp and grabbed him roughly by the chin, pulling him down to meet her eyes. "Listen to me, look me in the eyes, open your ears, and shut your mouth before I curse you," she interjected. "Ilya is and will be your only heir." She released him, pushing his face away roughly, taking a step toward the door. "And you can hate me, you may speak ill of my family for I care little for any one of them, but not Ilya. Do what you will to _remedy_ this situation yourself. And do not think I will ever forgive this."_

_Miroslava slammed the door behind her and strode up the nearest flight of stairs, swallowing the urge to scream at the top of her lungs. This nightmare couldn't be reality, but the ache on her upper arm told her otherwise. This wasn't a nightmare she could shake off. It was real. It had been the moment it was confirmed that Ilya possessed no talent for magic. _

_She couldn't think about that. Forget it. Ilya was perfect. He needed nothing more and if Roman wouldn't love him for it, she'd love him twice as much. She'd protect him. She wouldn't let him go through what Theodora did. She would be for him what she couldn't be for her sister. _

_Miroslava reached the third floor before she leaned into the nearest wall, winded, with a pain in her heart, and slid onto the checkered floor. She covered her mouth to keep the painful sounds from escaping and shut her eyes tight. She was trapped. Even if she considered taking her son and leaving Roman, she couldn't. She hated the cruel king who rejected her son, but she loved the man he had been for the ten years that they had known each other. They were too different. The king and the man._

_She wasn't strong enough to separate one from the other. She struggled since the heavy weight of the crown had been placed atop her pale head. Her hands were completely tied up in her position. If she renounced it for the sake of her son, she didn't know what would become of them or her family. It was unheard of. Ridiculous._

_This wasn't real. This wasn't real. This wasn't real._

_But the pain was. The tears were warm falling from her face were real. This wasn't a dream._

_Miroslava felt betrayed._


	53. (16) Volatile Kingdom - Pt 6

**VOLATILE KINGDOM** | ILYA PETROV

\- **i **-

Ilya decided to forgo breakfast to indulge in a few extra hours of sleep, but the tranquility of slumber didn't help calm the storm raging inside of him. It only dulled it. The hurricane of thoughts in his mind couldn't be contained in a jar if that jar was already full of cracks. Silent contemplation exhausted him and the weakness in him wished he could ask it to disappear, but he willed the foolishness of hope away. He couldn't be that person.

He wouldn't.

He sat up to the sound of footsteps approaching his bedside and saw Melik push apart the black drapes of his canopy. He assumed it was a dream and blinked up at him sleepily, not moving his face away when Melik brushed his hand against his temple to push past his unruly dark hair.

"I brought your breakfast, princeling," said Melik, gesturing to a tray on the table. "Apple oatmeal custard and peach slices. You're like a kid, it's cute."

"Get out."

"But—"

"Who let you in?" Ilya realized what a useless question that was and immediately added, "Forget it, just get out. I don't want breakfast. I've told Mil that."

Melik plopped down at the edge of the bed, crossing one leg over the other at the knee. "Oh, so you call him Mil?"

"What part of get out don't you under—?"

Melik stood up, walking past the canopy drapes and leaving Ilya in darkened. Hurriedly, Ilya followed, pushing past the thick fabrics to see Melik staring at his scimitar. Melik's countenance changed, the contrast between his previous and current mood as vast as the sea that separated the Byzen kingdoms.

"What is it?"

"I don't know, he won't say," answered Melik, frowning, "but something definitely happened because I felt it."

"Felt what?"

Melik shrugged after meeting Ilya's eyes. Ilya grimaced, and panicked, Melik attempted to explain, "It's a bit like being comfortable with something that you know is there that you forget that it's there most of the time because it'll always be there, but suddenly...it's not and you feel something akin to emptiness, like something's missing but you don't know what that something is."

"But your djinn knows?"

"Yes, but he's evading my questions."

"Can it do that?"

"'Course he can. He's got a mind of his own and everyth—" Melik bit down on his bottom lip, appearing embarrassed.

"What did he say?"

"I'm going to find Kouen to see if he's experienced something similar. He has two of them so one's bound to crack. You should eat something and come down. Kouen wanted to see the Sacred Pillar."

Ilya looked to the bowl of warm custard and grimaced when he felt his stomach growl. He took a single spoonful and delighted in the sprinkle of cinnamon in it.

When his young valet, Milan, entered to help him dress, Ilya thanked him for adding cinnamon to his oatmeal. His mother used to do it when she used to bring his breakfast up for him.

"I can't take credit," said Milan, sheepish, "Prince Melik prepared your breakfast."

Ilya let the spoon fall back into the bowl and the sweetness that filled his mouth faded into a sour aftertaste.

Melik and Kouen were downstairs in a sprawling sitting room with matching looks of consternation. Ilya took it upon himself to take their minds off the subject, of which they knew nothing apart from a nagging feeling that something wasn't right.

Ilya guided them to the Nohrian Sacred Pillar in the castle's basement floor where restricted magical research and resources were located. Only the strongest and most influential magicians were allowed, particularly those that donated funds to keep the labs working, apart from the magical researchers working there.

The pillar was located in the exact center of Tsar and within the basement floor, which connected tunnels throughout the capital, it was placed inside its own four walls. Access to it was limited to the royal family and the few researchers allowed permission to find any traces of hidden magic or secrets.

"The castle was reconstructed around it," started Ilya, standing in front of the Nohrian Sacred Pillar. It was erected prominently as if it had broken through the black floors—tall a triad of spiked obsidian crystals inscribed with words in a language few knew. "We have the strongest barriers protecting the castle and believed it was something that needed to be kept safe. Originally, we thought it contained hidden magic because of how it's appearance cleared the terrain for miles into a perfect circle, but for the longest time it has been dormant. That was until the Corrinean war when it started to glow. Our magicians haven't come to a conclusive answer as to why it would react at that point specifically, especially when the war began with Baryon, but they are trying to prove it has to do with the Byzen Code."

Kouen approached the pillar with interest and appeared for several minutes to be reading the inscriptions, translating them in his mind word for word, but rather than his eyes mirroring his understanding, they seemed to show a mixture of confusion and frustration.

He finally exhaled.

"Well, what does it say?" asked Melik.

"I've never encountered this language written so abstractly," answered Kouen.

"We had Baryonian scholars react similarly," said Ilya.

"What's wrong with it?"

"It's incomplete," replied Kouen. "It doesn't make any sense and it could easily be taken out of context. Perhaps, that is the reason your country has insisted on magical properties." He pointed to the middle of the third line in the block of foreign text. "There are mentions of magic here, but it doesn't explain why it's being mentioned, it continues in a different direction, or so it would appear."

He grimaced.

"The Baryonian scholars that studied this, are there any remaining?"

Ilya looked to Melik, who shrugged like the useless man he was, and returned his gaze to Kouen. "The scholars were better known in Baryon and given that it's been quite some time, it is to be assumed the only person with that sort of knowledge could very well have been Octavia."

"The Baryonian princess," said Kouen in understanding. He awarded the pillar another minute of silent observation before regarding Melik. "Did the Baryonian scholars face the same with the other pillars?"

"As far as Baryon, Corrin, and Hassah are concerned, yes," replied Melik.

"What of Ione and Lorah?" queried Kouen.

"At the time the pillars were undergoing study, the Ionian pillar was buried in rubble and the Lorahian king at the time barred field work," explained Melik. "The Lorahian people worship the pillar as if it were a god."

"Nohr believed it to have magical properties and Lorah considered it holy," said Kouen, mostly to himself. He appeared to have renewed interest in the pillars when he returned his gaze to the inscription.

\- **ii** -

_It became perfectly clear to Ilya as a boy of ten to realize the true extent of his father's hatred towards him and to acknowledge, with all of the heartbreak in his fragile world, that his father only loved in pairs: his survival and his queen followed by his ambition and Grisha. Ilya seldom existed in his world._

_But…_

_That wouldn't matter. He worked hard. He could work three times as hard as anyone. If he kept doing that he could impress his father._

_Christopher, a young valet-in-training, read out Ilya's schedule to him as Ilya's caretaker, Arina, dressed him in his training garb. He had sword training after breakfast while Grisha studied magic in the basement floor of the castle. Ilya feared his younger brother would become too advanced in magic by the time he caught up, but Ilya was a fast learner and he'd catch up in no time. So, he needed to work harder._

_"Don't overdo it, my prince," advised Arina, smiling kindly. "Your lady mother will worry."_

_Ilya promised he wouldn't, but he crossed his fingers in the inside of his pocket. He bolted out of the door and down the stairs to the large hall where his sword master waited for him. He swelled with excitement as soon as he entered because his master held two real swords in her hands, one of which she handed to him._

_"The edges are dull, but this is prime steel and it will hurt more than a wooden sword," the woman told him. _

_Selena was a strong woman, tall and lean with defined muscles. Her nose was slightly crooked from having been broken. She told Ilya that she had been hit hard with the hilt of a sword by the person that taught her to fight and so awed she had been with the move that she didn't try to get it healed properly because she didn't want to forget. She wore her long golden hair in a high ponytail. Ilya liked the sight of it moving behind her with the fluidity of her movements, like a snake poised to attack._

_Ilya took the blunted sword from her and nodded, his face bright with emotion._

_He trained together with Selena for an hour uninterrupted, applying all of the techniques he learned from her in the year they had been training together, but Ilya lost his grip on his sword with the last of Selena's heavy blows and received a whack across his upper arm as a result. He heard his sword clatter noisily at the same time that he heard his mother's voice nearby before she appeared in his periphery. _

_She turned him around to face her, quick to undo the buttons of his jacket to check he arm that had sustained the hit. The skin was bright red and a little sore to the touch._

_Miroslava raised her eyes to Selena, who stood bent forward in a bow and kept her gaze glued to the floor._

_"Real swords?" she demanded. "You think it is safe for a child his age to—"_

_"Mother!"_

_He was embarrassed._

_"Answer me, Selena!"_

_"Our prince cannot grow if he is not extended the same courtesy as other quick learners. He's earned this right, your majesty."_

_"Well it ends now."_

_Ilya panicked. "Mother, no—"_

_Miroslava snapped at him, her blond-white hair whipping around behind her, "This is too dangerous. You are far too young. Understand this and obey."_

_His protestations withered in his throat and he allowed his mother to drag him out of the hall, too embarrassed to take in Selena's expression while he listened to his mother go on about how there would be a time when he would be handling real swords. She took him aside into a room to treat the bruises rising to the surface of his arm and she continued to berate him over the lesson, going as far as saying that she wanted to dismiss Selena._

_"No!" Ilya blurted, panicked by the thought. He couldn't lose Selena. She was helping him get stronger._

_His mother frowned. "I understand that this is something you enjoy, but darling, don't be in such a rush to gain strength. You are already strong."_

_He lowered his eyes, but she put her fingers underneath his chin to lift his face. She smiled sweetly at him before cupping his cheeks and kissing his whole face until he was squirming to get away with a giggle. Between kisses, she repeated she loved him._

_"Just a few more years, yes?" asked Miroslava._

_Ilya nodded. "But mother, please don't dismiss Selena. We can train with wooden swords again."_

_"I'll consider it," she said, rising from her seat._

_"But Grisha—"_

_"You are not Grisha, Ilya," she interjected patiently._

_"I'm older than Grisha!"_

_"Accept that this is how it has to be."_

_"Mother—"_

_"The conversation is over, Ilya."_

_His mother left him to get to the next block in his schedule. _

_Ilya wouldn't meet with his tutors for another hour and he used his free time to sneak back into the training hall where he practiced with Selena to devote more time in implanting that day's lesson. He worked tirelessly until Arina appeared to inform him that his tutor had arrived. _

_He ran into his father on his way to get out of his sweaty clothes and bowed deeply, but Roman didn't look at him as he walked. He was walking alongside Grisha, who was chattering animatedly about his lessons that morning. Ilya bit down on is lower lip, unable to shake the force of his mother's words about waiting. He couldn't get anywhere by waiting._

_Ilya went to see his tutor and dismissed him. He ran around the castle until he found his sword master seated outside the castle maintaining her sword and bowed before her, requesting that they continue where they left off before his mother interrupted. _

_"Your mother will not approve," said Selena._

_"Please, master!"_

_"I admire your determination, Ilya, but I do hope you understand that you are setting yourself up for disappointment."_

_Ilya looked up at Selena, not fully comprehending the true meaning of her words. She understood it and sheathed her blade with a heavy sigh._

_"I'll continue to teach you no matter what hour or day you come before me seeking to learn and refine your skills," Selena told him, a darkened look in her hazel eyes. "However, I need you to do one thing for me. Will you do it?"_

_"Anything!"_

_"You will do this for you, only you. Understood?"_

_"Yes!"_

* * *

Ilya heard complaints about how Melik and Kouen's djinn continued behaving strangely without proper explanation. Their lack of understanding resulted in a hint of frustration within their everyday lives henceforth. He had been present to one or two discussions about what they weren't able to grasp from the silence of their djinn, but the lackadaisical conversations went nowhere and Ilya required constant reminder, mostly from himself, to refocus his attention on Nohr armament.

Roman, his father and king, had since Kouen asked for Lorah to be taken, summoned the leaders of his magical and non-magical armies to a war council, one that Ilya had been initially excluded from. If Kouen had not sat in it and requested that he be present alongside Melik, Ilya wouldn't have known a thing about what his country intended to do. His father assigned Ilya's former position as Head Commander of the (non-magical) Nohrian army to a tall woman with red hair down her back dressed in black spiked armor. She was ranked among the strongest fighters in their army, ambidextrous, skilled with sword and spear, and a forceful nature in battle. She suited the rank fine enough that Ilya didn't feel too bad about having been replaced.

Roman and Grisha would be departing for Lorah early next morning so plans were rushing to be finalized. Ilya would remain in Nohr until he concluded what his next best course of action would be, though he considered asking Kouen if he could accompany him to Hassah. He felt inclined to see Queen Nimet, but he was torn by the thought that maybe he should go to Ione to be by Asta's side. There would be plenty to do there.

He couldn't make up his mind and on the morning of his father's departure, Kouen approached Ilya with Werner following close behind. Melik was at arm's length, pensive as he stared out at the sea beyond the docks that held over a dozen ships filled with soldiers and magicians alike.

"If you've yet to make a decision about what you want to do, go to Lorah in my stead," said Kouen. "The Ionian army is yours to command."

Ilya stumbled over words, surprised by Kouen's request. He looked away from him to Werner, the long-haired commander of the warrior army, who smiled affably. "The Ionian army?"

"It would be an honor for us all to serve under your meticulous leadership," praised Werner, inclining his head into a curt but respectful bow.

He thought of his father and brother, imagined their disdain upon learning this news were Ilya to accept. Kouen would be going onto start negotiations with Hassah and informed Roman that he'd be sending someone along with them from the Kou Empire. The Ionian army was negotiated by his father, which Kouen saw no reason to refuse.

The two were being careful around one another, which was to be expected as they built trust. The representative from the Kou Empire was going to watch Roman to make sure that he delivered on his promise. Roman wanted the Ionian army because they were familiar and Ilya could guess the sort of thoughts on his mind that fueled his choice.

"Are you certain you would not rather send one from your Household?" asked Ilya, uncertainty pricking around his insides. His remaining Household members, the tall men with inhuman characteristics that followed him everywhere, stood several feet back, their eyes glued on their king.

"Yes," said Kouen.

"If you're that concerned about accompanying your father, we can switch," suggested Melik. "You're well enough acquainted with my mother to lead negotiations."

Ilya bristled with the implication that he felt concerned about going to war with his father. It embarrassed him to appear so pitiful before everyone and he steeled himself, glaring contemptuously at Melik, who flinched as if he'd been struck by a small pointed object.

"I've no qualms on going," stated Ilya, returning his hardened gaze to Kouen. "I'll go to Lorah in your stead."

Pleased about his answer, Kouen left, presumably to send information to Ione and the Kou Empire, with his remaining Household members following close behind. Ilya took the brief opportunity to turn to Werner Tjäder, hoping that Melik would follow the Kou prince, who appeared to be waiting for some sort of regard or even a hint of an order. This man had twice the amount of years in experience as a soldier and was considered among the most fearsome warriors of the Byzen Cluster, not only that, he was extremely loyal to the crown, but especially devoted to Asta. He pledged his blade, heart, and soul on Ione. There were few warriors like him in existence.

Ilya knew the man could be trusted and that would make working with him easier than being saddled with people he held doubts over.

"Do not hesitate to correct me if I commit any mistakes on the field," said Ilya. "I may be taking over as commander, but you hold the most experience and there is value in that that you shouldn't relinquish because of my rank. That is the only order I will stress that you follow, understood?"

Werner grinned. "Only if you would extend the same courtesy to me, my prince."

"Ilya alone is fine."

"I couldn't disrespect you so brazenly."

"It would be no disrespect," said Ilya. "I am no longer a prince of Nohr. It is only a matter of time before the Cluster fully transitions and the only royal family remaining is the Ren. If you do not want to fully discard rank, you may call me Commander Orlov."

The title coupled with his mother's maiden name rolled from his tongue pleasantly and he played with the thought that he might like that title better over that of Crown Prince.

"Understood, Commander Orlov."

"Good, then we are settled."

They shook hands and arranged to meet in the docks within an hour. Ilya felt unnerved by the shrinking timeframe between accepting this duty and showing up before his father to inform him that he would be joining him in conquering Lorah. Roman was disappointed with him because of how things ended up, but despite having done so, his father lost nothing. He asked for money, he received it. He demanded to keep the magic school and all related aspects under his control, including magical research, and got it. He discarded his heir, a conclusion he fought tooth and nail to attain since Ilya's shortcomings shamed him, and managed it with ease.

_Focus_…_and put the thought from your mind._

"Ilya."

Ilya half-turned, aware of having forgotten Melik standing by, and felt his insides shudder as Melik stepped forward.

"Look," continued Melik, and his eyes were brimming with unwanted sympathy. "You don't need to torture yourself by going with your father to Lorah. You want to go to war against Lorah least of any of us."

The emotion in him twisted into something sharp. "My personal feelings are inconsequential to the duty assigned to me."

"You shouldn't have to bury your feelings," said Melik. "You've gone through enough and you can take your time to come to terms with it all."

"What is there to come to terms with?" asked Ilya, his voice stronger, his eyebrows drawn close in the middle.

"I know how hard you worked to—"

"Is that how you view me?" demanded Ilya, irate. The thought of being perceived as pitiful, so devastatingly pathetic, that Melik felt inclined to propose switching positions with him. "I'm not so pathetic that I need you to spare my feelings!"

Melik's eyes flickered to the ground briefly as if he were contemplating his next words. "I'm just worried—"

"Save yourself the trouble of worrying for me. I've survived well without it."

He twisted on his heel and started to walk away from him, but Melik reached to grab him by the arm.

Ilya jerked his arm out of his hold, glared impatiently at him, and moved on. He heard Melik call his name again, but it came out all wrong with more emphasis on the first syllable to the point that it sounded like a pleading note that ended in silence.

**VOLATILE KINGDOM** | END


	54. (17) Hassahan Mystic - Pt 1

**SEVENTEEN**: Hassahan Mystic

* * *

**The Six Sacred Pillars**

Accounts vary from one Byzen country to the next, but it was universally agreed upon that as the Kingdom of Tzap sunk to the bottom of the sea, a blinding light engulfed the remaining six kingdoms during which many feared the destruction of their own homes that were struck by natural disasters. The unique wreckage in each kingdom resulted in the sudden appearance of six pillars, each inscribed with the Torran language.

Scholars adept in the language traveled to the kingdoms where they were permitted (Nohr, Hassah, Corrin, and Baryon), but although they studied it for many years, they were unable to decipher their purpose. By the time the Ionian pillar was found in the ruins of the country's Nyström province, Hákon was in power and the kingdom had severed from the others. The people of Lorah treated their pillar as a sacred object that should be worshiped and honored as a god, as such they denied entry to Baryonian scholars who challenged their beliefs.

Since their appearance, their relevance has not yet been uncovered or the reason as to why appeared in the first place. Many theories exist as a result.

* * *

**xl**: Hello! I'm going to try to keep this short.

\- I went back to combine a few chapters into single POVs because I am constantly trying to fix things. That's why we're not in Ch 60, suddenly.

\- Check my wordpress for (incomplete) guides, character lists, and previews. There is a link (that may or may not work) at my profile.

\- Do continue to suggest characters, I'm still taking suggesting for oneshots (short stories). I want to finish one for Valentine's Day, but February is looking to be a very busy month for me school-wise, so this might not be possible, but March looks good.

\- I have to organize what events I want taking place in the next chapter, so it might be a while before I can start releasing parts for it.

\- The following POVs were a part of the previous chapter, but they're better together separate from the others.

\- I wanted to introduce Melik's younger siblings, but there wasn't any room for them.

Next, I want to take the time to formally thank everyone that reviewed as I was slowly posting the previous chapter. I'm sorry that I couldn't always respond to your reviews, but I enjoyed reading your opinions and theories. Thank you for your feedback:** starrat, ****Miqila**, **DaughterofSelene103**, **shipudden-piece**, **animexxfreakxx**, **NameWithNoMeaning**, **Dehearts26**, **grimxichixshiroxmomoxorixx**, **HSYcca**, **KiwiRita**, **SilverMist-Yukino**, **Renhoa0.0**, **Candyluver2121**, **fianna2452**, and **SpaceSylph**.

I hope that you enjoy this chapter.


	55. (17) Hassahan Mystic - Pt 2

**HASSAHAN MYSTIC** | KOUEN REN

[ **i** ]

Their ships were anchored at a private dock managed by the royal family too late into the evening to travel. According to Melik, the palace where Kouen's negotiations with the Queen of Hassah would take place was a two-day ride from the dock.

Kouen spent his first night in Hassah in a comfortable suite at a hotel, but slept very little, too stubborn to leave the writing on the Nohrian Sacred Pillar alone. He devoted many hours to deciphering the particulars of the language, but came to the same conclusion. No matter his mastery of the Torran language, he could not make sense of it. He thought that if there was at the least a foundation set by the pillar, the rest could be translated through some guesswork, to temporarily sate him. The other pillars held other pieces of the mystery. His sudden knowledge of their existence bolstered his interest in the Cluster's conquest. Rather than encourage, it would be more accurate to say it enriched his mission to know there was something other than acquiring the Byzen Cluster to gain.

It irked him to understand that he lacked the proper resources to decrypt the contents of the Nohrian Pillar. Scholars anticipated the possibility that all of the pillars were connected, but they never had accessed to all of them. Once Roman took Lorah, Kouen would have them all and he planned to make time to review them, though not to his satisfaction. The Western Subjugation Army was in good hands despite his absence, but he would have to return to it to complete his first task.

The journey to Buhari Palace continued after daybreak. Kouen and Melik took the main road on horseback with minimal company and managed to slip under the radar of the people, who were accustomed to what Nero called Melik's extravagance. Kouen paid close attention to the atmosphere of the country—lively and radiant as the sun, electric almost—and contrasted it against the cold darkness of Nohr. The high tension of Corrin had been a familiar setting while the deteriorating state of Ione—the harsh reality of their slums and the seemingly ignorant opulence of the wealthy.

Hassah possessed a natural affluence. Public harbors overflowed with ships of varying types for an assortment of uses. Its golden beach was an idyllic vacation site teeming with people from locals to foreigners to street vendors.

Kouen observed the dark-skinned citizens of Hassah, mindful of their mannerisms and the friendliness of their demeanors. He took in the sights around him. The yellow or white structures characterized by their hidden pops of color every few yards, mosaics of bright shades on walls, the glittering merchandise on vendors' table as they crossed the market, and the intricately designed mats draped over walls to dry or dust.

Melik proposed a short break at a tiny shop after they had traveled an hour straight through a large heavily populated market town with narrow streets. There weren't any private rooms reserved specifically for the wealthy or nobility, so they sat outdoors where the dry breeze reached them. They drank çay, strong tea of a deep red hue served to them in tulip glasses. Melik unabashedly stuffed his face full of a sweet pastry he offered him called baklava, but Kouen refused it. He didn't have a taste for sweet food.

They reached the Buhari Palace past midnight on the second day since their arrival. The walled palace was built atop a plateau within a mountainous area scattered with odd rock formations and obelisks with inscriptions honoring dead royalty.

The palace sported four towers of equal height and diameter position in the four corners of the tall walls enveloping the structure. It was made up of dome-like shapes with glass ceilings in a few areas. The exterior stone was a bright yellow that he imagined appeared golden under the sun. The interior was all arched entrances and colorful mosaics. It was airy with various open-sided walkways or roofless rooms.

Their steps echoed as they entered and moved deeper into the palace. Kouen could hear running water and the fluttering and squawks of birds. Contrary to the summer night, the palace was cool, like stepping into a different world.

"Leyla," Melik called out.

Standing at the entrance of a sitting room was a striking woman in a white dress. Her neck was long and decorated in gold, her cheekbones high, and her brown eyes were sharp and heavily lashed. Her hair was sheered clean off, leaving behind a smooth scalp.

Melik half-walked and half-ran to her, hugging the woman that appeared too young to be his mother. He kissed her cheek as she smiled, big, and lovingly caressed his cheek.

Melik took the woman's hand and presented her to Kouen. "This is Leyla, the Lady of Hassah."

The queen's consort. He understood the familiarity.

"And Leyla, this is Prince Kouen of the Kou Empire," finished Melik.

Leyla bowed deeply, never breaking eye contact. "We have been expecting you," she told him. "You are earlier than I predicted, so you will have to excuse my queen for having turned in early. Do rest, negotiations shall open and close as soon as tomorrow. You will have all the time in the world to see the Hassahan Sacred Pillar, I hope it gives you some semblance of a clue before you choose to leave."

"I look forward to them," said Kouen.

Leyla motioned to the mustached man who would show him to his lodgings.

Kouen welcomed relaxation. The trip from Nohr was wrought with storms until they had reached the half point to Hassah, by then the temperature turned dry and the sun strong.

The accommodations were comfortable. There were three sections to the room sparred for him, the largest of them was where he would sleep. The walls were decorated in different hues of blue and gold with the furniture complementing it. The bed wasn't as large as he had seen previously, but he didn't need the excess room without Asta.

Once alone, he sat on the edge of the bed, the plush mattress so soft it felt as if he were sinking in and the sheets were slippery silk. He considered his progress in the Byzen Cluster, factoring the amount of time he spent in its conquest as a whole, and frowned, not quite satisfied by the overall progression despite it producing wanted results. The emperor wanted three things out of the Byzen Cluster: Ione's army, Hassah's wealth, and Nohr's magicians. The other three kingdoms were taken because they were a part of the set, though there were things that each one could offer, the aforementioned three were the priority.

Kouen decided that he could spare the job another four weeks, take a week or two, for quick results, and the end was in sight, which relieved him, knowing that he would go back to continue his conquest of the west where he was supposed to be had it not been explicitly necessary in his marriage contract to appear in Ione. He figured it would have been easier to send for Asta and have her at his side, but imagined that would be troubling for her. She wasn't used to moving around or being exposed to war. He preferred to avoid unnecessary complications if possible and taking her on to conquer the west would become one. He would be placing her in direct danger and if she was lost before the Byzen Cluster was acquired, it would result in the ultimate obstacle.

He wasn't completely dissatisfied by his detour. Asta surprised him with her determination to succeed and curiosity to learn. Ione's army was everything it was described to be despite having a few bad apples, which appeared to be the problem with the country itself, but was not something he worried about given that Koumei was handling it and Kouen suspected that if there were any remaining traitors in the army, Ilya and Werner would dispose of them.

Negotiations with the Queen of Hassah were expected to go swimmingly. With that final thought secured, Kouen prepared to sleep.

[ **ii **]

The Queen of Hassah held their meeting in an open room filled with columns and deep arches at a circle table holding two steaming cups of çay. They were surrounded by the whispering winds carrying the white fabrics meant for their privacy inside the pavilion-like room, the rustling of wings from the dozens of tropical birds lingering by the seeders, and their inelegant squawks. Melik and Leyla joined them upon the queen's permission and remained standing by the walls as there were only two seats available at the table. The two did not speak, not even to one another. There were guards posted along the four walkways that led to the center of the pavilion that remained solemn and stationary with daggers hung from their belts. Kouen's own household members were asked to stay at the least thirty feet away from the guards, which positioned them at the arched entrances to the pavilion room.

Nimet Buhari wore a yellow band tied over her head, her bone-straight black hair combed away from her forehead. Her clothes matched the color and it suited the deep brown shade of her skin. There were no signs of age in her face, which was smooth and elegant, her hazel eyes small and full of wisdom.

"After several weeks, you have finally made it to our audience, I do hope my sons were no trouble," started Nimet, casting Melik an accusatory look, which he avoided. "It tends to be the oldest that are problematic."

Lady Hassah smiled blissfully.

"I apologize for keeping you waiting," said Kouen.

A grin curved the queen's lips. "No matter, you were hours earlier than Leyla's prediction. So why don't we start negotiations?"

Kouen gestured for her to do so with a curt nod.

"You may take everything," said Nimet, "from the crown on my head to the jewels on my children to our traders and our land. You may have every citizen and every soldier."

"And what do you want in return?" asked Kouen, naturally suspicious of the offer.

"That you listen."

"Listen?"

"Yes, listen. Simple is it not? It may seem arrogant to ask for the ear of one's conqueror, but that is all we can do as the last queens and kings of the Byzen Cluster. If we must offer up our crowns for a greater purpose, you will do well to heed our warnings and consider our insights for we were born and raised to rule our respective islands. We know all of their secrets and all of their legends for they accompanied us on our growth. There are truths of our world hidden here, I'm certain you suspect this already."

The idea of knowing there were "secrets" and "truths," but not knowing what they were bothered him.

The smile upon Nimet's face grew wider. "You married one of the anomalies after all."

He questioned the word and she laughed.

"Asta of Ione, daughter of the Byzen Cluster." Nimet nodded. "The vǫlur have been expecting her for generations, for someone with her gift."

"We are honored for her arrival," said Leyla.

Kouen followed the sound of her voice.

"I do not think my lady needs further introduction," said Nimet, "but the woman you see before you is the last of the magicians blessed with the vǫlur gifts."

"Though I suspect it won't be long before I lose them," remarked Leyla, to which Melik responded by taking her hand to squeeze. She smiled gratefully at him and looked down to their joined hands sadly.

"You will have time to ask all of your questions once you've seen the pillar." Nimet stood. "Come, I will take you to it."

Kouen followed the queen through an open-sided arched walkway that led them around the castle to a smaller gate on the opposite side of the gargantuan entrance. Beyond the rolling hills, Nimet told him he would find a lake and in the center, the pillar. Three horses were prepared and Kouen understood he would go to the pillar alone, so he dismissed his Household members.

"You're not coming along?" asked Melik. "You're not the type to sit around all quiet and demure."

Nimet grabbed Melik by the ear and twisted it until he cried out an apology and she released him. "Are you going to tell me where Tahir is?"

Melik visibly panicked and started for the gate. He took the reins of his horse from the man holding them and climbed on the saddle, looking towards his irked mother. "You kicked him out and told him to make you proud, remember? Just believe that that's exactly what he's doing."

Nimet turned to Leyla, who smiled.

"Tahir is in the best care with his brothers," said Leyla. "They wouldn't put him in any danger."

"It's getting harder to believe that when I haven't seen him in years," sighed Nimet.

Kouen was handed the reins of his horse and while he mounted it, Leyla was helped onto the saddle of the third.

Leyla led the journey to the Hassahan Sacred Pillar. They spent few hours on the road, reaching the edge of the lake as the sun descended and the sky began its slow transition to night. From there, they took a small boat to the island in the center, anchoring it on a wooden post lodged to the earth. There was little difference between the pillar of Nohr and that of Hassah. They were both a triad of obsidian bursting from the ground. The difference was on the text inscribed on its face. It proved to be as oddly structured as the Nohrian pillar's, but from within it, Kouen understood one thing. This pillar detailed an exchange, though beyond that he could not say.

He read it over several times, a nagging feeling in him demanding answers that the pillar could not provide alone.

"The Baryonian scholars spent a lot of time here since this was the last location they visited," started Melik. "I can provide you the transcripts of their work and of what's written on the Baryonian and Corrinean pillars. I think they'll be a useful distraction given that you'll want to leave as soon as possible."

Kouen had no reason to depart so early, but as he wondered why, he looked onto Leyla.

She smiled. "Your assumptions are correct. I do believe that you will leave as early as tomorrow for I fear to be the bearer of dire news, but I must speak the truth when it concerns Princess Asta."

"Asta is in Ione safe under my brother's watch," said Kouen. If anything happened that Koumei did not feel himself capable of solving himself, he would have sent word. He didn't think anything happened to Asta, but Leyla's words placed doubt in his mind. If Koumei didn't inform him, it was minor and he either handled it or was in the process of doing so.

"Prince Koumei is worthy of your trust. He can solve whatever problems arise, however, this one he cannot, though he tries to accomplish it himself."

"How do you know this?" asked Kouen. "How do you have this information?"

"I am the last of the Ionian vǫlur, though it is probably more accurate to say that I was," started Leyla. "I lost most if not all my magic several years ago, you see the vǫlur pay a high price for their gifts—our duty to the princess is of peak importance—and once we lose that which fuels our strengths, we can no longer access our power to protect, nurture, and guide Princess Asta. For many years, the vǫlur were raised to be interpreters, to become the voices of the woman we have waited many generations to come, and to keep her here in the Byzen Cluster away from the dangers beyond it.

"However, the vǫlur died out long before Princess Asta's birth and it was quite a shame that they had for now she can only rely on the rukh to teach her to use her gift. I am able to see what has already happened, but only if it is connected to the princess. You see, there are many facets of purity: purity of the mind, the heart, the body, and the soul. As such, I've been allowed small windows to access my powers and for that reason I know what I know."

"Is Asta in danger?"

"Yes, and she will remain in danger. You witnessed Asta's abilities before and understand that predicting the future is not something within the boundaries of magic, but she can do it. She possesses a unique gift that is coveted by enemies of old, but they are not the only dangers that she will face. No, she is confronting her worst enemy at this time and if you do not find her, she may very well remain in that loop forever."

"Loop?"

Again, Leyla offered him an easy smile. "Yes."

Kouen understood that this was bigger than the pillars and started to turn away, prepared to ask Melik to ready a ship.

"You will do well to hurry if you wish to save them both," advised Leyla.

He stopped. As he did, Leyla provided an answer to the question he didn't manage to speak.

"She carries your child, my king."

"I am returning to Ione," decided Kouen, not a second thought in his mind.

Leyla stepped forward, a tad hesitant. "If you don't mind, I would like to accompany you on your journey."

Melik opened his mouth to speak, but Kouen spoke first. "Is it not your duty to stand by Asta's side?"

She inclined her head. "Thank you."

They wasted no time to prepare for departure, leaving Hassah in the middle of the night. His restless mind kept him from proper sleep and so he busied himself with the transcripts Melik provided of each pillar, but every so often his head clouded and wandered, spinning out of focus. He didn't feel overjoyed by the idea of an heir, rather, he was relieved by it. That meant his marriage to Asta bore fruit, that it did what it was supposed to do, and whatever their lives became afterward were theirs to deal with. Their job was done.

A small part of him replayed Leyla's words about both Asta and their child being in danger of losing their lives and he wanted nothing more than to save Asta. She was more important than a job well done. Not understanding what to do with this new information Kouen busied himself with the pillars.


	56. (17) Hassahan Mystic - Pt 3

**HASSAHAN MYSTIC** |

{ **i **}

Every morning it smelled like overcooked herbs. Outside the air was tainted with decay.

Maeve owned two chickens that roamed the stretch of her land and provided eggs for breakfast. It took a lot of scolding from Maeve for Asta to learn how to cook a decent egg, but the result was the same, she couldn't stomach it for long and wound up vomiting her horrible cooking. It was either overcooked or undercooked—_decent _was an exaggeration and she only used it because she didn't burn herself in the process.

Although, Asta was trapped in Maeve's hut with the promise of learning to control the abilities that everyone else had been so keen in identifying since she married Kouen she had done nothing related to the task. Much like the magic keeping her trapped, her day-to-day life was a cycle.

At the end of breakfast, Asta tended the patch of vegetables Maeve cultivated. Maeve kept plenty of food stored in her home to keep her fed until it was time to harvest. A lot of the work Asta put into the lone patch of dirt behind a row of blueberry bushes was simple, but it was difficult on her back and hands. She returned to the hut as late as sunset to start cutting up the ingredients Maeve left out for her on a cutting board and her messy handling led to several painful cuts. Many of her fingers and her left hand were wrapped tight in gauze.

Some time ago, Maeve provided her with an old bow she found while wandering the forest and gave her the necessary tools to make her own arrows.

"You will hunt," said Maeve in explanation.

It reminded Asta of Bo encouraging her interest in the sport despite denouncing it as unladylike and unnecessary when they first met.

Asta wasn't allowed to return home if she didn't bring back any meat and the nights were cold, too dark for her overactive mind. In the shadows, she saw ghosts and while they promised company, they often delivered nightmares that stole her urgency to chase them away with dreamless sleep.

The first couple of times that she was asked to skin the rabbits she caught, she barfed. The combination of the way she dragged the knife underneath their furry skins and the sliminess of the blood on her fingers disconcerted her. She could never make rabbit stew to Maeve's taste. The meat was too pink and Asta believed that to be the reason she was growing weaker, becoming ill.

Once the unappetizing dinner was finished, with the stench of decay and dying plants, Maeve met her eyes from across the tiny tale, the melting candle siting between them casting a harsh glow on the old woman's face, and asked, "Tell me what you dreamt about?"

Not once since Maeve began to ask that very question after dinner had Asta's answer changed. Almost ashamed, she responded after lowering her eyes, "I don't remember."

Every day, the night ended with Maeve slamming her hand on the table, rattling the half-eaten plate in front of Asta and the untouched food in from of herself. "You disappoint me."

Asta slept in Maeve's bed—it was the only luxury that Maeve allowed her to take as princess of their country—when she wasn't being punished. She dreamt and woke the following morning to forget what pervaded her mind after she closed her eyes the previous night. The cycle repeated itself in a stitched together pattern.

She no longer knew how long she had been staying in Maeve's hut.

{ **ii** }

Asta answered to Maeve's call by approaching her where she sat behind her hut preparing a powder in a mortar. The squat woman gestured her to sit and Asta tugged the quiver slung off her shoulder, setting it down first before she sat cross-legged with her bow lying across her knees. She had stripped down to a thin garment after she ruined her silk clothes with animal blood. It also hadn't been practical for hunting.

She was fascinated by the shiny stones sitting among the unsavory items displayed before Maeve. Animal bones and dried flowers, broken seashells, and an assortment of dead bugs in a jar. She tried to keep her face neutral as she asked, "Are you making a charm?"

"Do you believe in _soulmates_?" asked Maeve.

Asta was taken aback by the inquiry.

"Well...?"

"I was discouraged from doing so," said Asta.

"I'm not asking about what other people told you, I'm asking you. Do you?"

"Why the question?"

"Answer it," snapped Maeve.

Asta jolted. "No, I don't think I have."

"A romantic like you," said Maeve mockingly, as a wide grin spread across her lips. "You seem the type."

"I've just never considered it," replied Asta. "I suppose it is a nice thought, though, to know that there is someone out there meant just for you. But what if it is a real concept in this world and you simply never cross paths? Wouldn't that be sad? To know they exist, to feel the very life of them in your bones, but know that you can't be with them. It would be too sad. Isn't a world where you choose to love a person yourself better?"

"Do you ever feel that way?" asked Maeve absently, as if she were simply using conversation to fill their immediate surroundings with a combination of noises.

"How?"

She ground hard into the mortar with the knobby pestle. "That there is someone out there meant for you despite all hardship, that when god created you, he created them just for you, and that when you were born into this world destiny rejoiced for she bound you together to love each other more than either one of you could love another?" She caught Asta's eyes, a new emotion brewing in the dark orbs absorbing Asta's attention. "Do you feel _him_ in your bones?"

Asta shifted uncomfortably. The invasive question hung between them, sinking slowly into her chest. "What?"

"_He_ feels you in his."

Her throat dried. She pressed her lips into a thin line, swallowing thickly. "What are you saying?"

"I was making an observation," said Maeve. "There's an old legend passed down from generation to generation of völva about destiny. Our order began, if you're familiar, as a religion and we believed in the oral tradition that spread our sacred stories. In that time, the völva believed in soulmates. Every one person shared their souls with their destined partner and they were bound by a sacred bond way beyond the ties of marriage. It was cosmically impossible to understand the bond, but tradition sold it as something to be desired because it represented a sense of completion in human nature—an idealized form of companionship.

"This belief began with the story of the Sun God, the almighty creator, and of the Moon Goddess, his soulmate. The tale claims that he fashioned the goddess from his ever-brightening light and tasked her to observe and guide his creations at night. Together they ruled the realm in harmony.

"Every year, as the Moon grew more and more beautiful, the Sun became drunk with power. Despite the powerful ties of fate binding them together, Destiny viewed his negligence as an attack against her and cursed the Sun, so that when he returned to his senses, he would realize the Moon would never be his. Destiny called it a lesson and proclaimed that if willing, the Sun could take the Moon if he cleared all of her tasks, that if he truly wished to be with his one and only, the one he fashioned from the very power he treasured above all, then he would succeed no matter the difficulty of her obstacles.

"However, the Sun God never took notice, too immersed in the creation of the perfect world that he bound himself to another to give birth to the universe. The day the Moon Goddess died giving birth to magic was the day the Sun God realized his foolishness. And so, he cursed the goddess into an endless cycle of rebirth. Every time she returns to our land, he descends in human flesh and chases her, but each time he has failed. Destiny gave him the goddess from the instant of his birth, but he chose ambition, and now she interferes with his attempts to find the goddess once more.

"Destiny shields the goddess because she knows that if she is ever found, the Sun God would devour her."

"Devour?" questioned Asta. "That's frightening."

"Indeed, the Sun understood that to be the only way to keep the Moon, but so long as he believed that, Destiny would inevitably interfere."

Asta felt a strange sort of sadness about the legend. It was a little bitter tasting, she supposed.

"The soulmate ideal evolved from there," continued Maeve, working diligently. "That story was the first instance in which the phrase destined soul was used to describe a person whom you are meant to be with. Whether it is in the romantic, familial, or platonic sense, we don't know as such the concept of it is questioned. There is no way of telling whether it is real or not and without any evidence to support it, it can never become factual. Even so, it is an idea that many find attractive—romantic, really."

"I can understand the appeal," said Asta.

"Let us consider this," Maeve began, "You are married to Prince Kouen of the Kou Empire. He is not your soulmate, you know this, you've grown in an environment where love is an option, but you are attracted to love—you want love, but the best you can hope for is comfort. You will be comfortable with one another and you will love each other, not romantically, but a sort of comfortable love. You chose each other, this is as far as your choice goes.

"Oh, but wait, what if your union to each other is the obstacle your respective soulmates must overcome to have you. A new man appears and you feel a magnetic pull to him that you cannot put into words. He is yours from the moment you lock eyes and you are his, but your hands are bound to Prince Kouen. He is your obstacle to overcome.

"But you have children and rule an empire. Leaving would be a stain on your country, your honor, and would bring about untold consequences to your children. What are you to do? If you meet your Sun?"

"I'm comfortable in my marriage to Kouen," Asta responded. "He makes me happy. He makes me feel good about myself. I want to be a better person that can take care of my people and I think I can do it with him by my side."

"Imagine that feeling about a thousand times stronger and understand that you feel that for another man."

"That's ridiculous. I don't want to think of any other men." She felt guilty enough by Johan's passing though, by the idea that she might still have lingering feelings for the dead commander even after coming so far with Kouen. "I want to stay by Kouen's side. I want to fall in love with him and if possible, I want him to love me."

Maeve smiled. "Fall in love with him."

Asta nodded, but she couldn't shake the feeling that Maeve was welcoming her to fail as she returned to the hut. She pushed the thought out of her mind, she was imagining things in her current state, and she continued her repetitive day-to-day schedule.

{ **iii** }

Asta built a fire outside to roast the pheasants she caught on her hunt that morning. Her feet were aching, bloody, and caked in mud. Her body felt heavy and foreign, as if she was borrowing it for a spell.

She had grown accustomed to her terrible cooking, but it made her nauseous to eat it. The difference between before and now was that she stopped regurgitating it and could survive off it. She ate more vegetables than meat and they supplied the necessary nutrients to get her through the day.

Asta almost burned the pheasants because her mind was distracted by the conversation she had with Maeve. She wondered if there ever was a time that she believed in soulmates, but struggled to find an instance in which she had. She considered her time with Johan, but while she loved him to the point of abandoning her country, it never crossed her mind to think of or refer to him as her soulmate. He was her first serious love. Their feelings were mutual and she felt confident about that. He loved her. He definitely did. No matter what anyone else said. Johan loved her as he claimed time and again. She was his only one.

But...if she had to say that he was, she wouldn't. She didn't believe it. Maybe she was stupid as well as naive that she had fallen in love with Johan as hard as she did because he was the first person that was willing to take the risk of reciprocating.

Although, she had made her feelings clear to Sigge when they were younger, he apologized on his hands and knees because the only love he could have for her was the platonic sort—the love of a soldier to his regent, respectful and loyal, but not romantic.

Nero only had eyes for her beautiful Aghi and Alaric saw her as a child. She reminded him of his daughter when they'd met.

She didn't get to have relationships with any of the princes in the cluster after the Byzen Festival. It wasn't as if she was looking at Melik, Baron, or Ilya that way. They were brotherly towards her during that time and she couldn't see them as anything else, well...she didn't think. Nikias had been the one closest to her age, but she wanted to protect him more than she considered him a good marriage candidate.

Asta's stomach grumbled and she snapped out of her pervasive thoughts. She noticed Maeve observing her with a frown and she smiled at her before looking down to her food. The burnt bird filled her nostrils and her gag reflex responded faster than she could put distance between them.

Maeve taught her how to make tea out of ginger root. The old woman with her wiry hair put her hand on Asta's stomach. "You have to take care to remove the poison."

She grimaced, affronted by the insult to her cooking, but it was fleeting, even she wouldn't wish any of her dishes on her worst enemies. She drank the ginger root tea hot until the terrible cramping subsided.

Maeve tucked her into the narrow bed and brushed aside the hair from her face. She whispered good night and blew out the single burning candle on her tiny table on her way outside. Asta wondered where she went, but whenever she asked, Maeve would change the subject.

The darkness spread from behind her eyes and swallowed her into a freezing dream. Asta rose from the watery ground as soon as the scent of rotting flesh reached her senses and she almost screamed when she took in her surroundings. A sea of blood and severed limbs. She walked backward into Maeve and her body broke apart into thousands of golden rukh.

She woke up startled and sick. Maeve was ready with a bucket. The candle was lit and it filled the room with light.

Asta struggled to steady her wild breathing between rinsing her mouth with water and chewing on mint leaves. She felt something wet and sticky between her legs and kicked the covers off, tugging up her dirty shift to find a blood on her inner thigh.

"What did you see?" asked Maeve, forcibly turning her face in her direction.

She trembled. Scared, but eager to clean up. She tried to push Maeve's hand from her face, but the older woman's grip tightened. She halted.

Maeve repeated her question.

"Severed limbs on a shallow stretch of blood," she answered.

"Think about what these things could signify."

"What the blood river could mean? Nothing good, that's obvious."

"Is that what you felt?"

"How could it be good?"

"Answer the question."

"Yes! I felt horrible!" she snapped. "It was bad and I'm scared of it."

She blinked and saw her father standing beside Maeve. Her heart sank as he opened his mouth at the same time as Maeve and both simultaneously said, "But why were you scared?"

Her entire body went soft as she lost consciousness. The airy feeling that carried her forward halted suddenly and she felt the stinging cold claws of the nightmare throwing her back into the blood sea with all of the severed limbs. She tried to call out to Maeve for help, but she didn't have a voice to scream. She tried to reach her, but as she crawled towards her, she started to sink.

As she did, the blood sloshed all around her, sticking to her skin, grabbing hold of her like a thousand arms and cold fingers. The feeling lingered on her body several hours after waking, as if it were a permanent mark on her skin—a brand to serve as a reminder of the bloody dream.

She didn't have the courage to venture into the forest at night or to the well for water, not being able to see the bottom made her imagined river of blood running underneath the earth, polluting it with death.

Maeve asked her what she dreamt of every morning that Asta saw that nightmare and she started to describe it.

"Use all of your senses. Think about using them in your dream."

The texture of the blood clinging to her limbs, the sound of the bobbing limbs floating around her, and the lack of scent were things she brought back with her after telling Maeve about it.

"Why wouldn't those things have a scent?" asked Maeve.

Why? She wondered too.

There was no taste either.

When it came to describing Maeve in her dream, the old woman asked, "Why me? Why do I dissolve into rukh? How is that important?"

"I don't know," said Asta softly.

"You don't know?"

She repeated the words again and with a disappointed huff, Maeve left her side. Asta balled her hands into fists and lowered her eyes to the ground, asking herself the same questions Maeve made over and over again until they were the only thought on her mind.

Asta wasn't making stellar progress and it started getting harder for her to focus on all the little details of her nightmare that Maeve appeared to zero in on. They were important. They were not important. They made her feel this. Or they made her feel that.

What did they mean?

I don't know.

Asta couldn't make sense of it and started once more to consider that she was insane. This wasn't real. What happened in the dungeons of Corrin was happening again. She was imagining it all.

"You are doubting yourself again," said Maeve, observing her with the sharpness of a hawk.

Asta prepared to go on the hunt. Maeve wanted turkey as soon as Asta told her that she thought she heard some nearby and she wouldn't settle for squirrel meat, which was Asta's last resort and most common kill. Tracking took time and her skills rusted with neglect and she wasn't always fortunate to run into boars and pheasants every time she went to hunt. Squirrels were easy to find and after significant exposure to their movements, she could strike one down in one to two shots. She also wouldn't have to worry of losing an arrow with them.

Nevertheless, she was as much a fan of squirrel meat as Maeve was and those days weren't quite exciting.

"Huh?"

"The more you doubt, the more you struggle with your gift."

"How do you know?" asked Asta. "How are you certain that this is a gift?"

"What did I say to you when you first came here?" questioned Maeve, her rough voice softening with patience.

"You would help me with my gift. That you are a völva."

"What do völva do?"

"In my knowledge, they used to advise the royal family, but they died out, or so it was said."

"Yes." Maeve nodded. "Well done, you remember that much."

Asta remained pensive and shuffling the contents of her pack. There wasn't much in their but a waterskin and a small dagger; she wasted time.

"You are royalty and you are special, you require more than advise, you need guidance."

She stopped herself before accusing Maeve of not teaching her by remembering the first time she arrived. Maeve told her that she was there to learn. She mentioned teaching later, but it seemed important to Asta to notice that she said learn first. She was there to learn and now, Maeve said she needed guidance. Wasn't that all Maeve had been doing this far? Guiding her?

"You realize it now?" asked Maeve.

"How do you do that?" started Asta. "It feels like you're in my head sometimes."

"You, who were chosen by the rukh, are special," explained Maeve. "So deeply you are cherished by the world that the völur were given their gifts to keep you safe. If you are sad and conflicted, the rukh around you reflect it, and that information is transferred to the nearest völva so that we could do something, anything, to make it better. We protect you and guide you."

"Am I a magician like I was told?"

"Yes and no." This sounded familiar. "You are for all intents and purposes using magic. Clairvoyance Magic only. You can produce a Borg, the mark of a magician. You use magoi. You see and communicate with the rukh as any magician. However, you have the ability to learn beyond the means given to you. Clairvoyance Magic is your niche. It is your only specialty. You were born to be much more than a magician. You were chosen."

"Chosen by who?"

"He will reveal himself to you in time," said Maeve, "for you are destined to cross paths once more. Do not concern yourself with who or why. Be comfortable that you are."

"What am I to do with this gift?"

"If the world is ever in danger of disarray, you are their voice. You are here to protect not just your kingdom, but every other civilization in the world."

**HASSAHAN MYSTIC** | END


End file.
